The Eyes Of The Beholder, Part One
by loobeyloo
Summary: This new adventure, full of intrigue, romance and espionage, finds Hawke rekindling an old flame and the Russians formulating a dastardly and audacious plot, but just what exactly are they planning and to what lengths are they prepared to go to succeed?
1. Chapter 1

THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER is an original story, inspired by the U.S. T.V. series AIRWOLF.

Copyright refers to the author of _this_ original material, and is not meant to supersede any copyrights held by Donald P Bellisario or any other persons or corporations holding rights to the television series AIRWOLF and its characters.

CREDITS:

The author would like to acknowledge the use of the following songs which have only enhanced this work:

I'll be Seeing You – Words by Irving Kahal and music by Sammy Fain from the 1938 musical Right This Way.

Beautiful Dreamer – Words and music by Stephen Foster, 1862.

Up Where We Belong – written by Buffy Sainte-Marie, Will Jennings and Jack Nitzsche, from the hit 1982 movie An Officer & A Gentleman starring Richard Gere and Debra Winger.

Stuck In The Middle With You – Joe Egan and Gerry Rafferty – 1973.

I Only Want To Be With You – Hit for Dusty Springfield in 1964.

Ready To Take A Chance On You – From the 1978 movie, Foul Play, starring Chevy Chase and Goldie Hawn – Music by Charles Fox, lyrics by Norman Gimbel and sung by Barry Manilow.

I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do …. Abba from the 1975 album "ABBA"

Why don't We Try A Slow Dance …. Barry Manilow from the album 'One Voice' released in 1979.

If I give My Heart To You – By Jimmie Crane, Al Jacobs and Jimmy Brewster, 1954 – Performed by Doris Day.

I'll Never Stop Loving you - From the movie "Love Me Or Leave Me" (1955) By Sammy Cahn and Nicholas Brodzsky performed by Doris Day.

Time After Time - From the film "It Happened in Brooklyn" (1947)

(Jule Styne / Sammy Cahn) - Performed by Frank Sinatra.

Note from the author:

THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER starts in early February, 1984 and is set between the Season 1 episode DADDY'S GONE A HUNTIN'and the Season 2 opener, SWEET BRITCHES, as per the dates they were originally aired in the USA.

_**Prologue**_

_**Russia - Somewhere In Siberia.**_

_**Tuesday 14**__**th**__**, February, 1984.**_

General Vladimir Sevchenko's face was set in a deep scowl as he made his way down the dark, dank, narrow corridor of the cellblock, trying hard to not allow the two men accompanying him to see him cringing at the sickening, agonising cries that echoed off the stark, damp walls.

He still could not work out which of his superiors he had offended and what it was he could possibly have done that had landed him here in this wretched, freezing, Godforsaken wasteland.

More importantly, he could not work out what he was going to do to get himself out of this wretched, freezing, Godforsaken wasteland ….

It had been made clear to him at the beginning that he would not be allowed to leave until the project was over, the mission completed.

Yet despite numerous promises from the egg heads running the project, he doubted that they were ever going to be ready.

_**Damned civilians ….**_

Draining his funds and his resources, but showing nothing in the way of results for it.

Scientists it seemed did not work to the same schedules as the government and the military.

They had their own ideas about how long a thing should take.

It already seemed like an eternity since he had been put in charge of this special operation, but he had had to relinquish most of the work and control of it over the past few months, to the doctors and the scientists. They did not seem to understand the pressures he was under from his superiors, who were also under pressure from their superiors, and so on ….

Right to the very top at the Kremlin ….

And in the meantime, Sevchenko was left to bide his time and contemplate how much longer he could stand the God-awful climate …. Before his health would deteriorate completely and the only way he would finally be able to leave would be feet first, in a wooden box.

The phone call just over an hour ago from General Alexei Putin, had left Sevchenko feeling even more like a condemned man ….

Condemned to roam this freezing white hell for the remainder of his days ….

However, maybe …. Just maybe …. There was a small light at the end of the tunnel ….

Aside from the precious information from America and Libya, the telephone conversation had contained, it had also left him in no doubt that patience at the Kremlin was fast running out.

The time table had just been changed ….

Along with the rules of the game.

Word of the debacle at Omryklot a few days before had soon filtered down through the ranks ….

The upper echelons no doubt in apoplexy over it …..

While the lower forms of life in the military held their breath and waited for the inevitable fall out ….

Which had just dumped its self all over Vladimir Sevchenko ….

And now, he was going to dump it all over those egg head scientists ….

The Americans had gained the upper hand once too often ….

Now it was time for the Motherland to let those upstart Americans know her superiority.

Even if it meant his having to remain here for another two months ….

However, he doubted that the scientists currently running this project would be amused by what he had to tell them.

"Wait here!" He barked out the order to his escort as he came to the end of the narrow corridor. "Allow no one else to enter or leave." He ordered and the two men snapped to attention, positioning themselves, one on either side of the hallway, weapons raised in readiness.

Sevchenko turned on his heel and taking the right branch at the inter section, marched down the corridor, still trying not to cringe as the sound of blood curdling screams ricocheted off the walls.

At the end of the corridor were a row of thick, steel doors with only a small window with reinforced glass at eye level to allow visitors to look inside the cells.

As he peered in through the glass, Sevchenko saw the bare light bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling, and in it's full glare, seated in an old fashioned black leather chair with a headrest, the kind that once populated dentists offices the world over, handcuffed and strapped into the seat, was a man whose face was swathed in bandages. His head was completely covered, save for two slits for his eyes and two electrodes which were secured to either side of his forehead, and electrical wires trailed away to a machine in the far corner where his every brain impulse was being monitored and measured by two men clad in creased white coats.

A projector was set up behind the man in the chair and it was casting eerie pictures against the bare concrete wall opposite him. As each picture changed, Sevchenko knew that the voltage would either be increased or decreased, depending upon the importance of the image being projected and what it was supposed to mean to the bandaged man in the chair.

Sevchenko could not help thinking that it was all so very old fashioned. After all these years of practice, surely they could have come up with a better way of brain washing a man, in these enlightened times.

However, he was aware of the effectiveness of pain as a stimulant.

Of course, there were also the drugs.

Quite an extensive cocktail from which to chose, even mix together, if one knew precisely what one was doing ….

With these latest developments, Sevchenko knew that they were going to have resort to drastic measures ….

Maybe even hypnosis ….

Never the most reliable of methods of programming a subject ….

Still, needs must ….

Sevchenko rapped his knuckle against the glass square once, gaining the attention of one of the men in the white coats inside the cell, who were scrutinising the results from the EEG machine.

The man looked up, his expression becoming one of exasperation as he noted the General, beckoning to him to come outside into the hallway, but after barking out an order to his assistant, Dr Jorge Dimitriov let himself out of the cell and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Good day to you, Comrade General …." He greeted Sevchenko cordially, although he was irritated at the interruption. The procedure was at a critical stage and he did not want to miss a single reading, result ….

"Comrade Doctor …. I bring greetings from Moscow …." Sevchenko announced. "And with them, new orders for you."

"New orders?" Dimitriov gulped, his expression growing suspicious.

"Yes, comrade …. The situation has changed …. And it will require you to change your procedure …."

"Absolutely not …. We are at a critical stage …. He is almost programmed …."

"Well that is where you could have a problem …. You have programmed him to be the wrong man …."

"What? No …. We were assured that St Clair was the easiest target ….The co-pilot …. Of course, physically Gordon would have been a closer match …."

"St Clair is dead."

"Dead …." This expelled on a deep breath.

"Dr Moffett and all his crew, including St Clair, stole the helicopter out from under the Imperialist American's noses and took it to Libya …. However the Americans sent someone to get it back …. Someone who is obviously much more clever and tenacious than Dr Moffett. As you can imagine, Comrade Khadaffi was not …. Amused …."

"But if the helicopter is back in American hands …."

"Did I say that it was, Comrade Doctor?" Sevchenko's lips curled upward in a cruel smile.

"Then …."

"Let us say that it was repatriated by someone with an ulterior motive of their own."

"Who?"

"I wondered when you would get around to asking …."Sevchenko sneered. "Your new target is …. Stringfellow Hawke …."

"Hawke …."

"And you have a new target date, Comrade Doctor …. The Kremlin gives you just two months to programme him and get him ready to ship out."

"Two months …. It is impossible …. Physically he is all wrong …. We gave him St Clair's face …. Background …. It will take at least two months just to de-programme him and re-programme him with the little information we currently have about this …. Hawke …. No Comrade …. Absolutely no …. We cannot proceed with this individual …."

"There is no time to find another subject, Comrade Doctor."

"But …. You know the trouble we went to, to get the right man …. The correct height, weight, physical conditioning …. These things were all critical elements in the selection of the subject …." Dimitriov blustered.

"He is close enough …." Sevchenko insisted.

"Not to mention the fact that all our current data on this Stringfellow Hawke is more than two years out of date …." Dimitriov continued, undeterred. "The surgery required to alter his appearance will need several months to heal completely …. May leave scars …. " Dimitriov protested vehemently. "Also …. I cannot guarantee that the reversal of the procedure will not destroy his mind …. Perhaps even kill him …."

"That is not _**my **_problem, however …. I suggest that you try very hard _**not **_to let that happen, Comrade …." Sevchenko advised with a weary sigh. "I also strongly suggest that you intensify the procedure and get the illustrious plastic surgeon Andropov back here as soon as you can …. Allow him to get a little …. Creative …." Another cruel smile curled at Sevchenko's lips. "You will be provided with all the information you will need to proceed …. And we shall see if the good comrade Doctor is as good as he thinks he is …."

He knew of the surgeon's sadistic reputation and had no doubt that they could put it to very good use in the next two months.

Frankly, Sevchenko didn't give a damn if they churned out Frankenstein's monster swathed in bandages …. As long as they had someone half ready to perform the mission, the rest could be covered …. Or fudged ….

"Moscow will not tolerate any further delay …. The Americans must learn that they have made fools of us once too often …. They have to learn that what they can possess, we must also possess …. By any means we can."

"But …. But …."

"Better save your breath, Comrade Doctor …. You have your orders. Time is marching on …. Oh, and I have been requested to inform you that failure is not an option …. "

Sevchenko turned on his heel and marched away back down the corridor, leaving the threat hanging in the air ….

Knowing that if the scientists did not pull this off they were all as good as dead ….


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One.

_**Santini Air Hangar, Van Nuys, California**_

_**Thursday 15**__**th**__** March, 1984.**_

"Hey, String, don't ya think you should be getting ready?" Dominic Santini hollered from the office doorway, directing himself to the younger man sprawled beneath an OH-6 Cayuse/MD 500 Hughes Helicopter on the other side of the hangar.

The sound of hammering increased and Dominic Santini could not help smiling to himself, as he slowly counted to five and waited for the younger man to yelp out in pain, as he smashed the monkey wrench into his fingers.

"Owwww!" Muttering and cursing under his breath, Stringfellow Hawke crawled out from beneath the Hughes, grimacing as he shook his mangled fingers to relieve the pain.

"Oh String …." Dominic Santini sang out, knowing that there was no way that his young friend could ignore him now. "Don't you have some place to be?"

"I _**am**_ some place right now, Dom …." Hawke growled, still grimacing in pain as he flexed his knuckles. "_**Here**_ …. And I've got work to do …."

"Oh is that what you're doing, I thought it was some new fangled disco dance …." Santini chuckled. "Move over John Traviata ..."

"Travolta, Dom …. It's John Travolta …." Stringfellow Hawke sighed deeply.

"Whatever …. You gonna go wash up, or are you going looking like that?"

Hawke looked down at his grease stained coverall and pulled a sour face.

"Not going anywhere …." He remained defiant.

"Oh really …." Santini arched an eyebrow.

"There's too much to do here …." Hawke pointed out.

"Bulldust …. And a promise is a promise, Stringfellow Hawke …." Santini reminded. "You promised Bob Rutherford that you would do this …. And now you're gonna let down all those kids …. I thought I raised you better than that …." He sighed his disappointment.

Again Hawke pulled a sour face.

He did not need to be reminded of the promise he had made to his old Army buddy. Rutherford had pulled out all the emotional blackmail stops, worked him over good and proper so that Hawke had had no choice but to agree to what his old buddy was asking.

Rutherford was married to a History teacher and she had persuaded her husband to round up as many of his old Army buddies from Vietnam as he could, to come to her school to talk to the kids as part of their history project on the Vietnam war.

Many of the kids in the school had father's who had served in 'Nam …. Even died in 'Nam, and Sophie Rutherford had persuaded her husband that it would be good for all the kids to really understand what had happened to the boys who had gone off to war.

Stringfellow Hawke hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking that it would have been far more educational to take the kids down to the VA Hospital and let them see what glorious war did to a man's body …. And mind …. However, he had wisely kept these thoughts to himself.

Rutherford had saved his most ardent powers of persuasion for Stringfellow Hawke ….

Because Hawke could put the icing on top of the cake …. by making it possible for them to arrive at the school in a Huey helicopter.

Rutherford had caught Hawke at a bad time …. He had been distracted and had really only agreed so that it would get the other man off his back.

Now, he regretted his hasty decision.

It was true that there was a backlog of work at the hangar, essential maintenance which he and Dom had been neglecting these past few weeks ….

Since their return from Libya, with a certain piece of highly sophisticated, and much sort after hardware.

Maintaining Airwolf, setting up the Lair and stocking it up with equipment and weaponry …. and flying missions for Michael Coldsmith Briggs III had threatened to take over ….

But Hawke had been glad for the distraction and for the fact that working two jobs at least allowed him to get tired enough so that he could sleep nights.

At least his sleep was dreamless these days.

No nightmare images of his brother, St John, being left behind in that steaming Vietnamese jungle ….

And no heartbreaking images of Gabrielle ….

As she had lay dying in his arms, telling him that she had thought about him and the eagle, even as Dr Charles Moffett had left her in the heat of the Libyan Desert without water, her body broken and scorched by the relentless desert sun ….

Since they had been back, Hawke had deliberately kept himself so busy that he could not think about Gabrielle …. And was so bone weary when he did tumble in to bed he slept so deeply he did not dream.

It made no difference ….

The image was burned into his brain permanently. He only had to close his eyes and he could see her ….

His temper had been on a short fuse for weeks now and he had never been very big on tact and diplomacy. The very last thing he felt like doing right now was dealing with a bunch of curious kids, who would want to crawl all over the chopper, and maybe even expect him to take them up for a joy ride.

But ….

As Dominic had said ….

A promise was a promise ….

And Stringfellow Hawke prided himself on keeping his word.

_**Damn.**_

Hawke picked up an oily rag and wiped his hands carefully on it, his skinned knuckles still stinging, then he threw the rag down on the floor and walked back across the hangar, giving Dominic Santini a pointed look, but nothing more was said, and with a smile of satisfaction, Dominic Santini returned to the office to finish off sorting through the pile of paperwork on his desk.

Fifteen minutes later, a stern faced Stringfellow Hawke, freshly showered and clad in a crisp, clean US Army dress uniform, pale khaki shirt and cap, epaulettes shining brightly in the mid morning California sunshine and shoes shined to within an inch of their life, stalked across the hangar and climbed into the Santini Air jeep he often drove.

He slipped on his flying shades, turned the ignition and revved the engine noisily before heading out across the airfield, his destination Heatham Air Base, situated about an hours' drive south of Los Angeles, for the second time in about six weeks ….

When it had been closer to ten years since he had last worn the uniform and walked on military property ….

And he would willingly go another ten years before he had to do either again after today ….

Back in January, at the behest of Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, he had had to return to military life, if only briefly, under cover posing as an Army pilot on an exchange programme with the USAF and although there had been some pleasant moments during his brief stay there, mostly his time at Heatham had reminded him most of what he had hated about being an army flyer ...

And here he was, going back ….

He was due to rendezvous there with Bob Rutherford and the others and to collect the authentic US Army Huey helicopter that Rutherford had promised he could get for the day's adventure, and which was currently on loan to the USAF for training purposes.

He gritted his teeth and floored the gas pedal as he hit the highway south …. Wondering if a speeding ticket would be a suitable excuse for not turning up ….

But even as he was tempted ….

His own personal Jiminy Cricket began to whisper in his ear ….

Sounding uncannily like Dominic Santini ….

_**"A promise is a promise, Stringfellow Hawke … I thought I raised you better than that."**_

_**Thursday 15**__**th**__** March, 1984.**_

_**Park High School, Los Angeles.**_

Stringfellow Hawke's head was pounding and his patience was almost at its end.

The guys hadn't stopped yakking since he had rendezvous'd with them at Heatham and they had piled into the Huey, jokingly patting him on the back as all three of them felt the need to check that he remembered how to get the chopper off the ground.

His scowl and tense silence had caused much mirth on the brief flight, as Parker, Knowles and Rutherford had joked about the good old days in 'Nam.

Lately all Hawke's memories of that war had been far from happy.

He kept his mouth shut and concentrated on guiding the chopper in over the inner city school, where a crowd of children were eagerly awaiting their arrival in the yard.

Sophie Rutherford, a plump, homely woman with a wide smile and a cheery disposition, greeted all four men with a huge smile and swift, hard hugs and then started to introduce them to her colleagues on the staff at the school.

Stringfellow Hawke tried to concentrate on the introductions, but he was keenly aware of the proximity of the kids and their excitement at having a real helicopter parked in their school yard. He needed to be vigilant, just in case they decided to break lines and swarm over the Huey.

He shook hands with several people whose names he instantly forgot as he moved along the reception line behind Ted Parker and Don Knowles, but as he scanned the line to see how much longer it was going to take before they could go inside and begin their lecture on the Vietnam war, Hawke suddenly became aware of a young woman standing slightly apart from the other teachers at the end of the line ….

Behind his flying shades, his eyes narrowed in surprise as he instantly became aware that there was something familiar about her ….

She was trying to console a child who seemed to be more upset by the arrival of the helicopter and the uniformed men than the others, a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder as she bent slightly to speak softly into her ear.

Hawke found himself wanting to get a better look, and so he peeled off his shades, and just at that moment, the woman turned around to face the approaching men.

Hawke found himself doing a double take.

And could not mistake the startled expression that crossed her face …. nor the slight widening of her brown eyes, in instant recognition of him too.

Hawke felt a tightness begin in the centre of his chest.

It seemed like he was destined to continue to keep coming face to face with the past.

Old ghosts ….

_**Tasha ….**_

"Hawke …." Stringfellow Hawke was rudely returned to the present by a quick jab in the ribs from Bob Rutherford. "You still with us, buddy?"

"Sure …." Hawke responded, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from the young woman.

"Sophie was just reminding us to mind our manners …." Rutherford grinned. "And remember, Hawke, they're just kids …."

"And we're here to glorify war for them …." Hawke scowled.

"That's not why we're here at all …. But some of these kids lost their fathers and their uncles out there …. It can't hurt to make them feel good about what their folks were fighting for …."

"What were we fighting for?" Hawke drawled sardonically.

"Freedom."

"Amen to that brother …." Knowles and Parker responded in unison.

"What's wrong with you, Hawke, you look like you swallowed a quart of lemon juice …." Rutherford joked.

"He always looked like that …." The other two men chuckled. "Could frighten Charlie from sixty feet up with that look on his face …."

"Ok guys …." Sophie stepped in now, obviously feeling that Hawke needed rescuing from the good natured ribbing. "Maybe String just doesn't feel comfortable around kids …." She pointed out, but the look she threw at her husband told him that he should remember what had happened to the Hawke brothers and that the younger Hawke sibling might not have quite so many happy memories of Vietnam.

Stringfellow Hawke let out a deep sigh.

He didn't need her sympathy.

He just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge ….

Seeing his increasing discomfort, Sophie Rutherford slipped her arm into his, and before he could protest, guided Hawke toward the end of the line.

"There's someone else you should meet …." She chattered gaily. "Alexandra, honey …. don't run off, I've got someone here you should meet …."

Before he knew it, frowning and taken slightly aback, because he could have sworn that Sophie had called the young woman by a different name to the one he remembered …. Stringfellow Hawke had Sophie Rutherford's hand pressed in the middle of his back and was being pushed toward the young woman.

"Stringfellow Hawke, this is Alexandra Beecham …. Oh, I'd better go make sure Bob has his notes …." And with that Sophie Rutherford hurried away toward where her husband and the other two Army veterans were chatting with a group of teachers from the school.

_**Subtle, Sophie …. Very subtle ….**_ Hawke thought, his heart constricting in his chest as he forced himself to settle his gaze on her familiar face, his hand outstretched in greeting.

"Hello …. Alexandra ….?"

"Hello Hawke …." She held his gaze with steady deep brown eyes. Well at least she wasn't trying to deny that she had recognised him.

"Fancy seeing you here …."

"Yes …. Fancy …. Quite a coincidence …. How long has it been?" Her voice hadn't changed, soft and melodic and pitched somewhere between soprano and contralto ….

And neither had that wonderful English accent of hers …. Not quite the upper crust, plum in the mouth accent affected by royalty, but also not the abrasiveness of the London cockney ….

It had always delighted him …. Sent shivers of anticipation and excitement down his spine.

Middle England ….

Home Counties ….

Her rich chestnut coloured hair was a little longer than he remembered, the sun picking out hints of gold and red as it fell around her shoulders in soft natural curls, and her English rose complexion now had a healthy touch of California sunshine.

Her figure seemed to have filled out a little ….

At five feet five inches tall, she had always been as skinny as a boy, but she appeared to have gained a little weight, giving her a more feminine shape ….

It suited her ….

The pretty white sundress that she was wearing was clinging to her womanly curves in a most alluring manner ….

And her eyes were a warm sherry colour, sparkling with amusement he realised as he caught himself staring at her.

That was when Hawke realised that he should be angry right now … not feeling like some dumbstruck kid, his palms sweating and his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

The smile slid from his face and he threw back his shoulders and stood ramrod straight, dropping his hand before she had a chance to shake it.

The spark of amusement instantly disappeared from her lovely eyes and was replaced by ….

Disappointment ….

Hurt ….

Acceptance.

"You know how long, Tasha …."

"Alex …." She corrected, something in her eyes begging him not to contradict her, but to just play along with her and again he frowned.

"Alex …. More than two years …." He growled.

_**Two years, four months and two weeks …. **_She thought silently, still rocked by the sight of him ….

_**But who's counting….**_

_**November 26**__**th**__** 1981 ….**_

_**A life time ago ….**_

_**In another life ….**_

"What the hell happened to you …." He hissed.

"Let's not do this, Hawke …." She smiled softly, her eyes now beseeching him not to make a scene.

"Yes …. Lets …." He snarled.

"All right …. But not now …. Later …." She persisted, the look in her eyes warning him that they were drawing curious glances from his friends and her work colleagues and that she did not appreciate being made to look so …. conspicuous ….

The centre of attention.

"Please …." She implored softly. "Not here …."

The look she gave him told him that she did not want to have to explain why things had become so tense between them so suddenly.

They were meant to be strangers ….

That she didn't want her colleagues to know that she knew Hawke from the past, because that would mean answering some awkward questions about how they had met …. And where ….

"We'll be going inside in a moment …."

"I waited for you …." He lowered his voice and pinned her with a steady blue gaze.

"I'm sorry, String …." She sighed softly, her expression clouding into irritation. "I'm sure it's not the first time you were ever stood up …."Her tone was icy now.

"You couldn't call?"

"Hawke, please …." She hissed through clenched teeth, her gaze drifting past his shoulder now. "Sophie is coming …. Please don't spoil this for her …. For the kids …."

"Later …."

She merely blinked in an affirmative response.

Stringfellow Hawke took in a deep breath and expelled it as a deep sigh, knowing that he wasn't going to get the answers he sought right then and was relieved when Sophie Rutherford drew up at his side and told him that they were ready to begin, taking his arm once again to draw him away, and Alexandra Beecham used the opportunity to return to her students, desperately trying to hide the tears which were suddenly welling in her eyes.

Stringfellow Hawke ….

_**Damn him ….**_

Looking just as handsome and arrogant and healthy and beautiful as she remembered ….

_**And angry ….**_

A justifiable anger, she knew ….

_**And hurt ….**_

That was justifiable too ….

_**Had she been the cause of that haunted, pained look in those beautiful blue eyes …. **_

_**Or had he been touched by tragedy once again more recently?**_

The other teachers were leading their classes into the school gym now, ready to attend the lecture that the Army veterans were about to give, and taking her cue from Sophie Rutherford, Alexandra Beecham led her class into the gym and then stood at the back, inching her way back toward the exit so that at the first opportunity she could slip out and get some fresh air.

She needed time to think.

She needed time to get over the fact that he was here ….

_**Large as life and seething with anger.**_

_**And still as stubborn as a jackass ….**_

And still having this crazy effect on her ability to think …. and command her limbs!

She owed him an explanation ….

But she knew that he wasn't going to like it.

She had no idea how she was going to handle the situation ….

Just how much she should tell him ….

_**Dammit ….**_

She didn't need _**this**_ kind of distraction right now ….

Had other more important things on her mind …. Things to do with her job …. The kids in her class.

She needed a clear head and all her powers of concentration ….

Not his wonderful, handsome face haunting her mind, dominating her thoughts ….

She did not have to wait long for an opportunity to make her exit. Casey, the young girl she had been trying to calm down outside, before Sophie had brought Hawke over, was becoming more and more agitated, anxious no doubt over the fate of her twin brother, Chris, and fearing that she would break down completely and cause a scene, Alex decided to take the child out of line.

Quietly and discreetly, Alex coaxed the girl to follow her out of the gym, forcing herself not to look back at the stage, where she knew Hawke would be watching her, stone faced and accusingly.

From the centre of the stage, Stringfellow Hawke watched as the woman he had known as Natasha Banks …. Now, Alexandra Beecham, slipped out of the back exit and his heart sank.

So close ….

He was so close to discovering what had happened almost two and a half years ago ….

But he couldn't go after her, no matter how much he wanted to because Bob Rutherford had begun to speak, introducing his colleagues on the stage, and Hawke knew that he was stuck there until the end of the lecture.

All he could do was hope that she wouldn't just disappear into thin air once more, leaving him with still more questions and no answers ….

The lecture took just over an hour, with Hawke being called on to add his thoughts and comments at the end, before inviting the teachers and students to take a closer look at the Huey parked in the school yard.

All the time he was showing the kids and their teachers around the chopper, Hawke kept an eye open for Alexandra Beecham, but there was no sign of her in the yard and he could feel his temper beginning to simmer.

By the time the group of Army officers were ready to leave, Hawke knew that Natasha …. _**Alexandra ….**_ Whoever the hell she was calling herself these days …. had somehow managed to evade him, but as she came to give him a quick hug goodbye, Sophie Rutherford pressed a piece of paper into his hand.

"Alexandra asked me to give you this …." She told him with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile. "She got caught up in a nasty piece of disciplinary stuff with the Principle in the office …. Something that happened earlier in the day, but it had to be dealt with …." She explained.

"Couple of the boys got into a dust up in the yard and one of them ended up with a knife in his leg …. _**Do you believe that**_ …. Very messy …. Both kids are in Alexandra's class, so she had to deal with it. The Principle has both sets of parents in the office right now." The expression on her face told Hawke that it could turn out to be a lengthy meeting and that Sophie did not envy Alexandra the task of supporting the boys whilst also having to support the Principle's decision and the school's policies.

"Thanks …." He waited for Sophie to withdraw, returning to give her husband a kiss of thanks, despite the fact that the need to see what Tasha had written was killing him.

Her neat handwriting filled barely two lines on the scrap of paper.

The note contained a telephone number and a brief message:

_Call me later …. I'll meet you somewhere quiet and we can talk …. I won't let you down …. It was good to see you again …. Tasha._

_**I won't let you down ...**_

_**Too late …. **_

_**She already had ….**_

_**Another broken promise ….**_

_**And now, maybe, he was going to find out why ….**_

He couldn't help reading the last line over again.

_**It was good to see you again ….**_

Yeah.

Right.

"Hey buddy …."Bob Rutherford came to join him and slid a friendly arm around his shoulder, interrupting his reverie. "Time to get the birdie back, or they'll be sending the big guns after us …." He grinned. "Thanks Hawke …. I owe ya …. Big time …."

"Yeah …." Hawke growled.

"Come to dinner some time …. And bring Alex …." Rutherford smirked and Hawke scowled at him, slipping his shades back on. "You always did have good taste, buddy …. Just lousy luck with the ladies …."

"Yeah … right …." Rutherford didn't know how close to the truth he had come, Hawke thought ruefully. However, Hawke felt sure that Rutherford was referring to the fact that he was still single, although he had reached the grand old age of thirty four, and that he hadn't had a really long term relationship ever ….

Not to the fact that every woman Hawke had ever loved …. Had died ….

"I saw the way you looked at her, Hawke …. And I saw the way she looked at you too …." He gave Hawke a knowing wink. "Funny that, because Sophie's always throwing guys at her, and she never once took the bait …." He grinned again. "My wife the Matchmaker …. Must be the uniform …. Dang if you don't still look terrific in it …." He patted his own slightly rotund stomach, straining now against the shiny buttons of his dress uniform jacket. "Personally I'll be glad to put it back in mothballs …. You go get the Huey warmed up and I'll round up the guys …. Promised to have that baby back by five pm and I don't want Colonel Ross reporting it AWOL …."

Hawke watched Rutherford cross the school yard with a frown, unable to stop himself from wondering just how long the Rutherfords' had known Natasha Banks …. _**Alexandra Beecham …. **_

Had she really been so close all this time?

_**So close ….**_

And what the hell was the name change all about anyway?

_**So near ….**_

When all the time he had been led to believe that she was half way across the world ….

At least she hadn't tried to deny that she remembered him ….

He couldn't stop thinking about her, even as he meticulously went through his pre-flight instrument check, waiting for Knowles and Parker and Bob Rutherford to bid the teachers farewell and climb aboard the Huey ….

And as he lifted off from the school yard and pointed the chopper back toward Heatham, the kids happy cheers still ringing in his ears, Stringfellow Hawke suddenly realised that he hadn't thought about Gabrielle the entire time he had been there ….

By the time Stringfellow Hawke returned to the Santini Air hangar, Dominic Santini was getting ready to close up for the night. The harsh set of the younger man's features was warning enough to Santini that his mood was not pleasant and he wisely decided to keep his counsel and wait for Hawke to tell him what had happened at the school.

"You going up to the cabin tonight?" He asked in a neutral voice as he watched Hawke neatly fold his cap and stow it in his locker.

"No." Was Hawke's succinct response.

"You're sleeping here tonight? Ok …. Then you can lock up. I'm beat …. I got a hot date with a bucket of pop corn, a couple of cans of beer and an old John Wayne movie …." Dominic smiled at his young friend, but Hawke merely nodded in reply.

"You ok?" There was concern in the older man's voice, and genuine warmth in his gentle blue/grey eyes now, but again Hawke merely nodded. "Right then …. I'm outta here …. Don't stay up too late …. 'Night."

"Night Dom …."

After stripping out of his uniform and showering again, Hawke donned jeans, a pastel blue shirt and a thin white sweater, white socks and soft tennis shoes and went back out into the hangar to check that the main doors were secured before retiring to the office with a mug of strong black coffee.

He sat down at Dom's desk and stared at the telephone, his fingers playing with the scrap of paper that Sophie Rutherford had given to him ….

He didn't need to look at it, he knew the telephone number and the message off by heart already ….

He sat back from the desk and propped his feet up on the corner, crossing them at the ankles as he let his head drop back a little and let out a deep sigh.

Throughout the long drive back from Heatham Air Base, Hawke's mind had been filled with images of the past ….

Interlinked with images of the present.

He seemed to have come full circle.

The past really was catching up with him ….

It seemed that the return of Airwolf into his life was also bringing other things to a head.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, working at the tension and the small ache that was lodged there.

His mind had been filled with images of his time spent at the Red Star Lab, out there in the California desert at Devil's Anvil, during the long but exciting days he had spent learning more and more about Airwolf ….

Working closely with all the scientists involved in her development, including Dr Charles Moffett and the small team of specialist computer scientists that he had brought with him from his native England ….

Amongst them, one Dr Natasha Banks.

She had been so young ….

Barely twenty, he recalled ….

And he was so much older ….

Thirty one ….

But it wasn't just the years ….

He had seen and done things that had changed him forever …. been to places that she could only dream of ….

He had been so determined to keep his mind on the project that it had taken about six months before he had really noticed that she always seemed to be around.

She loved her work, programming the Super Mach 1 helicopter's onboard computer systems, teaching Airwolf to speak the several different computer languages that controlled all her critical systems …. Guidance …. Weaponry …. Targeting …. Defence ... Communications …. Radar ….

Explaining that these systems had to be completely independent of each other …. Had to have different languages, so that they didn't accidentally counter command each other and over ride critical instructions. It wouldn't do at all she had told him, somewhat tongue in cheek, to have the Targeting system suddenly tell the Guidance systems to change course …. Sending him into orbit in pursuit of a spy satellite ….

Better that they speak gibberish to each other ….

As he spent more time at Red Star than the other test pilots involved in the project, Hawke got used to seeing the slender, almost emaciated, geeky kid, always sitting before a computer screen, fingers dancing swiftly and accurately across a computer keyboard, imputing data into the mainframe and the onboard computers, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated on her work.

He was impressed with her dedication.

She worked well into the early hours of the morning and was there again at her desk, alert and ready to begin bright and early again the next morning.

As his training had progressed, Hawke found himself working more closely with the computer systems team, and in particular, Natasha Banks. She was also responsible for programming different flight scenarios into the simulator's computers, and somehow always managed to come up with some ingenious new way to test both his mental abilities and his flying skills ….

He had a good deal of respect for her ….

Suspecting that she also had the skills and experience of a good pilot, learned from an early age ….

She certainly had a deep understanding of the kind of reactions a pilot might be called upon to use, and the unusual solutions he might have to pull out of the hat to save his crew and his aircraft.

She also came up with several clever ways of killing him ….

Hawke had enjoyed pitting his wits against her.

When they worked together, he always found it more challenging ….

A good mental and physical work out ….

But he knew that she wasn't just testing his skills ….

But making sure that Airwolf and all her computer systems would be up to the task and not fail her pilot and crew at a critical moment in any mission.

She was always pleasant, always cheerful and didn't seem to have much interest in anything except her work.

After one particularly scary near miss in the simulator, Hawke had taken her to one side and asked just how she had come up with that scenario ….

Only to be told, very casually, that a similar situation had happened to her a few years back …. And she had just been curious to know how he would have dealt with it.

He had dealt with it by almost crashing Airwolf into a mountainside …. Only the aircraft's supreme manoeuvrability and response time saving the day.

However, she had refused to tell him how _**she**_ had dealt with it, merely grinning charmingly and saying "Obviously I did …."

After that, whenever they had to work together, they spent the five minutes before he had to go into the simulator, exchanging stories about close calls and near misses.

However, as he spent more time with the computer team, and Natasha in particular, there was one thing that Hawke found puzzling.

Moffett ….

And his interest in this young woman.

He always seemed to spend more time watching her than the other female members of the team, constantly referring to himself as Uncle Charles in her presence ….

Hawke found this a little disconcerting, because he had a feeling that Charles Moffett was a very sick individual indeed when it came to women, and his sexual preferences, and it concerned him that the old English lecher always seemed to want to monopolise Natasha's time.

However, with the work falling behind schedule they had all had to give up more and more of their free time to get the job done, including Hawke himself, and he found himself working deep into the night with Natasha, learning how all the onboard systems worked …. And neat little tricks of the trade on how to overcome even the most serious glitches.

That was when he had begun to realise that he liked her ….

_**Really liked her ….**_

Was actually starting to have feelings for her ….

Tender feelings ….

Protective feelings ….

Became more and more aware of it when he felt like punching Charles Moffett's lights out every time he got close to her ….

Laid his hands on her ….

Hawke also realised that the painfully shy and innocent young woman was beginning to like him too ….

And trust him ….

He suspected that maybe she thought that he was just feeling sorry for her because she had few friends, even amongst their colleagues at Red Star and she never seemed to go anywhere except to the lab.

She was something of a loner ….

Like himself ….

They shared similar interests in music and literature.

They laughed at the same things ….

Which he found surprising, since he rarely laughed out loud about anything ….

She didn't seem to care that he was so much older than she was …. In fact she had gone out of her way to let him know that he was eons younger than most of the men she had ever known in her life ….

She seemed to appreciate his friendly overtones, recognising the hand of friendship that he was offering.

Lord knew, they both needed a good friend ….

Hawke to stop himself from being broody …. Falling into dark self destructive moods …. Wallowing in the past ….

Tasha, to draw her out of herself, give her confidence and self believe a boost, and a new perspective on life.

Throwing his customary caution to the wind, Hawke had asked her out and had been delighted when she had accepted.

He had taken her dancing, only to discover that the poor kid had two left feet, both on her right side! They had tripped over each other, and stumbled around the small dance floor, laughing so much that Hawke thought they would be thrown out ….

To return his kindness, she had asked him to go bowling ….

Never one of his favourite sports, Hawke had braced himself and accepted, but again they had ended up tripping over each other, as she had tried to show him how to hold the bowling ball and deliver it properly down the alley ….

Laughter seemed to be the key to their friendship and happiness and Hawke knew that he had never felt younger or more light hearted than he did when he was with Tasha.

Friendship began to deepen into something much stronger ….

For both of them.

However they had to be careful, as fraternisation between staff at Red Star was frowned upon by Moffett ….

Unless of course _**he**_ was the one doing the fraternising.

Hawke had tried to draw Tasha out on the subject of Moffett, trying to get to the bottom of their strange relationship, the hold that the older man seemed to have over her …. but she grew guarded and awkward …. Uncomfortable and withdrawn ….

Afraid …. Hawke had thought to himself.

And she had good reason to be.

For he had seen the possessive and predatorial way that Moffett watched Tasha, whenever he thought that no-one else was watching.

However, their happiness was short lived.

Before they had a chance to change the nature of their relationship to something a little more romantic, Natasha had failed to turn up for a planned evening out at the movies ….

And the next morning had disappeared from Red Star.

All that Hawke could discover from her work colleagues was a vague feeling that they thought that she had gone back to England.

Puzzled, confused and more than a little disappointed, Hawke had waited for Tasha to try to contact him, but there had been no word.

And when he could find no trace of her on the base or off it …. And he, being Stringfellow Hawke …. he had begun to wonder if he had done something to frighten her ….

However, he had other things to worry about …. As the nature of his own relationship with Charles Moffett had also changed around this time ….

Both men merely tolerating each other before, in a bid to get the job done, their ultimate goal the same, to make sure that Airwolf succeeded …. To get her, figuratively and literally off the ground ….

Now, Moffett seemed to go out of his way to discredit Hawke, to introduce a note of doubt about his flying ability and to undermine everyone's confidence in the young pilot at every opportunity ….

Raising doubts about his suitability under fire ….

Querying the results of his Psych evaluations ….

Goading him into losing his temper and using it as a means to make everyone at Red Star believe that Hawke was on the point of some kind of breakdown ….

Archangel, he recalled, had been called upon to act as referee on a number of occasions ….

And, Hawke also recalled, had come down in favour of Hawke, not Moffett, much to the Englishman's chagrin.

However, after four months of this kind of abuse, of constantly being failed in the simplest tests and having to go over the same ground over and over again, and after one particularly unnerving incident in the simulator, Hawke had decided to cut his losses and had walked away from the Airwolf project ….

With only one regret ….

That he was no wiser as to what had happened to Natasha Banks.

Now …. Almost two and half years down the line ….

Airwolf was back in his life ….

Dredging up all the old memories ….

Resentments ….

Recriminations ….

And so now was Natasha.

He couldn't for the life of him understand why he was feeling this way …. Although he had never cared for leaving loose ends ...

It really shouldn't matter so much to him why she had left and where she had gone ….

At the time he hadn't really thought that _**it**_ …. That _**she**_ …. had meant that much to him ….

It wasn't like they had declared undying love for each other …. Had made no firm commitments to each other ….

They were friends ….

They enjoyed each other's company ….

Together they had made some sense out of their lives ….

And when she had suddenly been gone from his life …. Nothing made sense any more.

He felt like he had lost something very important ….

More than just a lost opportunity …. A lost friendship ….

But he had felt like that before ….

And since ….

Other women who had meant so much more to him ….

Or so he had thought ….

But sitting there with his emotions still so raw …. Still in turmoil over losing Gabrielle ….

All he could think was that with Natasha, he had been at perhaps the most happiest in his life ….

Calm ….

Serene ….

At peace with himself and the ghosts he carried around with him constantly ….

There was no denying that she had done something miraculous to him ….

She had given him the gift of feeling, for the fist time since Vietnam, since having to leave St John behind …. that his life was worth living ….

A reason for living ….

Really living, not just existing …. Marking time until his life finally came to an end ….

_**So how did he feel now?**_

Surprised ….

Yes ….

He hadn't thought that Natasha had come to mean so much to him ….

He hadn't realised that he had missed her quite so much as he now understood that he had.

Hadn't realised that he had not tried to deal with his feelings for her …. To resolve them ….

Had dismissed them from his mind completely ….

After all, she was just a kid ….

Just a kid ….

And why dwell on something that was over ….

He was pleased to see her again ….

Of course he was …

More pleased than he dared admit …. Even to himself ….

He was pleased that she had looked happier …. Healthier …. More at ease …. The fear and anxiety having gone from her lovely brown eyes ….

And curious ….

Why the new identity?

_**But what did he really feel?**_

That he could not answer ….

It was still too soon after Gabrielle ….

But ….

He had to admit, silently to himself in the growing gloom of the Santini Air office …. For an instant …. Just for an instant …. There had been a stab of pleasure at seeing her ….

A glimmer of hope that maybe he might get a second chance with her ….

And then, guilt had settled in his heart like a stone ….

How could he be thinking of pursuing any kind of relationship with Natasha when he could still feel Gabrielle's frail, overheated body in his arms as the life had slipped away from her ….

_**What the hell kind of man was he any way ….**_

He had _**cared**_ for Gabrielle ….

He had cared for her more deeply than he had for any woman ….

In a long time …,

_**Since Tasha ….**_

So why was it his heart had leapt at the very sight of Natasha Banks …. And all those wonderful, warm, comforting feelings he had associated with her presence all those years ago, had come flooding back, threatening to overwhelm him.

Was that why he was still sitting here ….

Thinking about it ….

Torturing himself with the memories …. When all he had to do was pick up the phone and call her ….

Was he so terrified that something beautiful might blossom between them once more ….

So afraid that he had found his soul-mate once more ….

For he now understood that even back then, when things between them had only been platonic and based on friendship …. deep in his soul he had known that there was something special about Tasha …. That she was _**the**_ one …..

Was he so afraid to pick up the telephone and put things into motion that he would soon have no control over ….

Because that would once again put him in the position of having to face losing another woman that he loved ….

Or was it that this time, he was afraid that maybe, _**he**_ might even be killed on an Airwolf mission, before they had had a chance to fulfil the promise of love that had germinated between them two and a half years ago ….

That he might come to care for her so deeply ….

Might need …. Want that love and fulfilment in his life, so badly, that it might make him careless ….

His own life had meant so little to him for a long time ….

Since Tasha had disappeared ….

Taking with her his reason for living ….

Now ….

To suddenly be confronted with the idea that the dangers he faced daily might bring about the end of everything that he had ever hoped, dreamed and prayed for …. Before he had a chance to know how they really felt ….

That the happiness he yearned for could be snatched away …. His life snuffed out ….

And all because he could not let go of the idea that St John was alive ….

In that brief instant of recognition between them this afternoon, Hawke had known that all the happiness he had craved for most of his life, the security of a stable, loving, passionate and fulfilling relationship were there for the taking ….

With Tasha ….

All he had to do was reach out and he could touch it …. Taste it …. Feel it ….

_**Live it ….**_

But what if she didn't feel the same way about him?

What if all she wanted from him was friendship …. After all, a lot of water had gone under the bridge …. She wasn't that naïve girl any more. She was a mature, attractive, confident young woman ….

She had made another life for herself ….

And he had no right to hope that there might be a place for him in it ….

But he could not help being just a little selfish ….

And if it turned out that friendship was all she would accept from him, then he would accept that and be grateful to be accepted back into her life in what ever role she defined for him.

So what was he waiting for?

All he had to do was reach out and pick up the telephone ….

After only the slightest hesitation, Stringfellow Hawke reached out for the telephone, pulled it closer to him and punched in the telephone number from memory.

The line rang out ….

And kept ringing out for several minutes ….

And with each tone, Hawke's heart sank.

She wasn't home ….

Or maybe she was home …. And couldn't bear to answer the telephone …. Had changed her mind about agreeing to speak with him ….

"Hello …." Her breathless voice suddenly on the end of the line startled him. "Hello?" She said again after what seemed like an endless silence. "Hawke? Is that you?"

"Hello Tasha …." He answered her at last, his voice low and gruff with emotion.

"Hello Hawke …. I knew it was you …. I recognised the silence …." She spoke softly. "Did you try calling before?"

"No …."

"Oh …. Well …. I've literally just got home …." She explained. "And I know you were hoping to get some answers …. But I'd really appreciate it if you could wait for some other time …. It's been a tough day …."

Hawke recalled the incident at the school that Sophie Rutherford had told him about and knew that it could not have been pleasant or easy for her to have to deal with.

"I've been at the Police Station since just after school …. And then I went straight to the hospital …." He caught the quiver in her voice then, and knew that she was on the verge of weeping.

"Then I guess you must be tired …." He sighed softly.

"I hate to ask …. But can I have a rain check?" Again there was a catch in her voice, and Hawke knew that neither of them would get anything out of a meeting tonight.

"Sure …. You all right?"

"Yes …. Thanks for asking …." She sighed softly, and this time he could hear the smile that had curved briefly at her lips.

"Sophie told me that there was some trouble at the school before we arrived today …. How are the kids?"

"Oh String …. I don't know what this world is coming to …. A young man died tonight because another young man stabbed him in the leg …. damaged an artery, and they couldn't stop the bleeding …."

Hawke found himself pulling a sour face as she described the injury …. Recalling that he had seen more than his fair share of such injuries in 'Nam …. Young men with their legs blown off, bleeding to death and there had been nothing that anyone could do to save them.

"And all because they belonged to rival gangs …. The other boy will have to go to jail now …. Murder …. A teenage boy with a bright future suddenly turned into a murderer …. Before my eyes …."

Hawke desperately wanted to say something to comfort her, but he knew there was nothing he could say, so he let her talk, get it out of her system, forgetting that he had been prepared to be angry with her.

"That's why I had to go to the Police station, to give a statement …. Two families destroyed, String …. Both boys had brothers and sisters …. The Police are so worried that it will just keep going on …. that one family member will try to kill one of the other boy's brothers or sisters …. In retaliation …. And on and on it will go …." Her voice caught in her throat then, and he heard her take a deep, calming breath. "How are we supposed to teach these kids, String? What are we meant to teach them …. Some of them are just so full of anger and resentment …."

"You do the best you can, Tasha …."

"What if it's not good enough …." She let out a deep sigh once more.

"It doesn't matter …. You can't just give up on them …. You might get through to one or two of them …. And that would be worth it, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah …. So …. Enough of my troubles …. When is a good time for you? To meet up?"

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Fine …. Say seven thirty …." And she named a place on the coast that he also knew, a secluded cove where they would have plenty of privacy to talk.

"I know the place. I'll meet you there."

"Thanks for being so …. Understanding, String …. Good night."

"Good night, Tasha …"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two.

_**Dawn – Somewhere in the Nevada Desert ….**_

_**Friday 16th March, 1984.**_

"So …. Your Dad and me …. We …." Dominic Santini laughed raucously as he steered the Santini Air jeep around a particularly deep rut in the dirt track road, squinting in the darkness, as the soft fingers of dawn light had not yet begun to illuminate more than the small strip of sky on the distant horizon. With no ambient light, the road, and particularly the ruts and ridges, were difficult to see until you were almost on top of them.

"Well, your Dad and me …." Still chuckling about the story he had spent the better part of the journey recounting to his passenger, he turned to grin at the young man, slouched low in the seat beside him, only to discover that he had his arms folded defensively across his chest and his eyes closed, behind his mirrored flying shades.

"Hey …. Are you listening to me!" Dom exclaimed in outrage. "Hey, you …. sleepin' beauty!"

"Of course I'm listening, Dominic …." Stringfellow Hawke growled, although he did not open his eyes. "Don't have much choice, do I, as I am kind of a captive audience …." He pointed out. "And if you don't keep your eyes on the road, you'll be the one walking back to pick up all the supplies that just catapulted out of the back …." He drawled.

"Are you complaining about my driving!" Santini fumed. "I've been driving since before you were born …."

"Then why are you trying to reach V1 …." Pilot speak for take off speed. "This, if you hadn't noticed, is the desert, not a runway at LAX…."

"Getting a little sea sick over there?" Santini sneered.

"No …. But how is a guy supposed to catch up on his beauty sleep …. Bouncing around like a glider in a hurricane …. If I wanted to experience zero gravity, I'd apply to join NASA, and take a trip on the Vomit Comet …. And you …. making enough noise to wake the dead …." Hawke sighed deeply.

He had heard the story a dozen times over, and every time Dominic Santini told it, he added more embellishments.

All of Dom's stories about his and Hawke's father's exploits during the Second World War were like the proverbial fisherman's tales ….

About the one that got away ….

Hawke had heard them all.

He knew that it was Dom's way of keeping his father alive …. For both of them, but today, he just wasn't in the mood.

For one thing, he was tired.

He'd spent half the night tossing and turning trying to get to sleep ….

And then, at last, when he had finally succumbed, a nightmare had jarred him awake barely an hour or so later …..

And he had spent the rest of the night regretting that he had ever closed his eyes at all.

"Well hush my mouth!" Dominic forced himself to look away from Hawke, not wanting the younger man to see just how deeply his harsh words had hurt him.

The young man's father had been dearer to him than a brother ….

Just as the young man himself had become as dear to him as a son ….

And Dominic Santini took seriously his need to keep the young man's father alive for him. His own memories of Hawke's father were still so fresh ….. but for a young man who had known his father for barely twelve years, the twenty two years since his untimely death must make him seem like a stranger …. Remote …. Untouchable …. A dream ….

"What the hell is eating you, anyway?" Dominic demanded, keeping his eyes on the uneven and deeply rutted track ahead. "I've taken a lot from you over the years, but lately, you've been harder to live with than a bear with …. toothache …."

"I'm sorry, Dom …." Hawke let out another deep sigh, and now his tone held genuine remorse.

He hadn't wanted to hurt the older man.

He had spoken without thinking ….

Another indication of just how tired and distracted he really was ….

And, if the truth be told, Stringfellow Hawke would be the first to admit that even he was finding it hard to live with himself ….

The two men had only just got back to their familiar bantering, after Dominic had taken exception to Hawke's reaction to his performing a very dangerous stunt about three weeks back ….

Dominic Santini, the ever reasonable and grounded old geezer he loved like a father, had gotten the wrong end of the stick and taken it into his head that Hawke thought he was too old …. That he couldn't hack it anymore.

At first, Hawke had refused to help his friend with the ground control arrangements, in the vain hope that Dominic Santini would use his head and realise that even a young man like Hawke, with his skills as a pilot would think twice about landing a helicopter on top of a moving truck …. For crying out loud!

But not Dominic ….

He had taken exception to what he considered Hawke's lack of faith in his flying skills and had gone so far as to actually land a punch on the young man's jaw …. When he discovered that the film company offering him the job had made Stringfellow Hawke an even better offer ….

Things had worked out in the end, but not without considerable anxiety and …. On Hawke's part …. Much crawling on bended knee ….

The only thing that had convinced Dominic that Hawke was worried about the stunt and the guys he was meant to be working for, that they weren't on the level …. was his offer to fly the stunt instead while Dom backed him up in Airwolf ….

But it had only been Archangel's information that the film company was a front for a possible hi-jacking of the truck that had persuaded Dom to believe Hawke …

That and the offer to fly the Lady for the first time ….

"Is this still about …. Gab …. About what happened in Libya?" Santini asked, knowing that he was risking another burst of Hawke's wrath.

"Some …." Hawke said succinctly, unprepared to go into any great detail.

"And the dreams …."

Hawke's cold silence only went to confirm what Dominic Santini had already guessed.

"Don't you think it's time you _**did**_ something about that …." The jeep's headlights picked out the opening of the cave and he steered the vehicle toward the dark, gaping hole. "See a shrink …. Get blind, stinking drunk …. Hell, I might even be persuaded to join you on that one …. Throw a hissie fit …. Break up some furniture …. I know, here's a novel idea …. _**Talk to me**_ …. But for God's sake, deal with it son, before it kills ya …." He advised in a stern voice that Stringfellow Hawke recognised from his youth, and then slammed on the jeep's brakes, as the headlights illuminated the breathtakingly beautiful helicopter parked in the centre of the cave.

"You done?" Hawke growled.

Dominic Santini sat very still in the driver's seat and turned his head to regard Stringfellow Hawke with a deadly serious expression on his beloved face.

"I guess …. I've said all I'm gonna say …. Except this …. You keep things bottled up long enough, they find their own way of getting out …. The longer you _**don't **_deal with this, the more chance one day, you'll end up having a heart attack …. A stroke …. A nervous breakdown …. I've seen it happen, String, so I know what I'm talking about …. I just hope I'm not around to see it ..." He concluded on a deep, sorrowful sigh. "I'll get the gear set up …." And with that he slid out of the driver's seat and moved to the rear of the jeep and the boxes of tools and supplies stowed there.

Stringfellow Hawke closed his eyes tightly and let out a deep sigh.

_**Why did he keep hurting the people he loved ….**_

_**The people who loved him ….**_

Dammit ….

He had to pull himself together ….

He had to get his head straight.

Because he knew that Dominic was right.

"Dom …." He spoke as the older man moved back toward the front of the jeep, hands full of boxes.

"She really is beautiful …. Isn't she …. Takes my breath away, every time I see her …." Dominic refused to look at Hawke as he spoke.

"Yeah …." Hawke agreed, knowing that his chance to make amends with Dom had slipped away ….

Or more accurately, Dom had closed that door firmly in his face …. Not yet ready to accept the younger man's apology.

He wanted him to stew on it for a while ….

Hawke knew that the older man would get his wish ….

"Well, are you gonna sit there all day?" Santini asked as he began to move toward the sleek, shark-like machine, basking in a pool of soft light in the centre of the cave.

"Guess not …." Hawke let out another deep sigh, peeled off his shades and slid out of the jeep.

They set to work in silence.

This visit to the Lair was primarily for essential maintenance and to restock the weapons they had used on their last mission.

Hawke took the weapons systems while Dominic concentrated on checking the main rotor and the tail rotor systems.

Airwolf was a beautifully engineered machine, and Dominic Santini always enjoyed tinkering with the machinery.

He understood it.

All that computer stuff, well, somehow …. mostly by luck rather than judgement …. Trial and error …. And with a little help from String now and again …. He had figured out which button to press ….

At a pinch ….

But it didn't follow that he understood the mechanics ….

And he certainly didn't know what he would do if something went wrong.

He knew a little about electrical wiring …..

But computer programming was tantamount to Greek to him.

It was the one weakness in their decision …. Actually, String's _**insistence**_ …. That they maintain Airwolf themselves ….

If anything ever did go wrong with the computer systems, Hawke would have to seriously consider letting Archangel get involved ….

And ultimately, that would mean his having to give up control of her.

Dominic was glad to have good old fashioned grease on his fingers, a spanner in his hand and metallic engine parts to tinker with. It meant that he could concentrate on something other than his heated words of earlier.

He hated being at odds with the young Hawke, but simply hadn't been able to hold his tongue any longer ….

It was tearing him apart to see the young man suffering so, under the weight of his grief for that beautiful young girl ….

And guilt ….

Knowing that by just knowing him …. Being associated with him ….

And caring for him ….

She had become a target for one of his enemies to use to get to him.

The burden that he carried over his brother, St John had been bad enough ….

Now this ….

Well, hopefully, the stubborn young man would take on board what he had said …. And get himself some help.

Inside the rear engineering section of Airwolf, Stringfellow Hawke sat before a brightly illuminated panel, the panel adjacent to it open to reveal the spaghetti tangle of wiring, where he had had to disconnect the firing mechanisms before beginning to work on the weapons themselves.

He was meant to be checking that the computer had recognised the installation of the rounds of ammunition for the chain guns and the Bullpup missiles that he had just replaced, after their last mission ….

Lessons learned there ….

Armaments were heavy …. Difficult to transport and damned time consuming to install …. He'd have to remember that on the next mission for the Firm ….

There was nothing else for it …. He would have to remember not to be so damned trigger happy ….

Although it often felt good to empty every round from the chain guns into the bad guy …. And the Starbursts were pretty damned effective at getting a bogey off their tail ….

But, eventually someone somewhere was going to tally up the cost, and their no questions asked chain of supplies would dry up ….

Not to mention the actual physical effort of installing them, and then coaxing the on board computer systems to recognise new hardware and data from the weapons' own computer systems ….

However, now that the actual physical part of the job was done, he was finding that his mind kept wandering.

For one thing he couldn't get Dominic Santini's words out of his head.

The fact that Dominic had been so vehement was a real indication as to just how anxious the older man was about him.

_**More reasons to feel guilty.**_

He wouldn't hurt Dominic for anything …..

Not deliberately ….

However, it seemed through his lack of consideration and thoughtlessness ….

His moodiness and his inability to communicate his true feelings ….

He had done just that.

He also knew that Dominic was right.

He needed to address the problem.

It was beginning to seriously affect his life ….

_**His work …. **_

_**His concentration.**_

_**His damned trigger finger ….**_ Locked on to the firing nipple like a man in the throws of an electric shock …. Unable to let go …. Lost in memories while he emptied the guns into his enemies …. Real and imagined ….

The insomnia ….

The inability to keep his mind on something for longer than ten seconds….

It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake ….

_**Maybe even a fatal one ….**_

The trouble was, he had never found it easy to open up …. To talk about his feelings …. His worries …. His troubles ….

After Vietnam, he had seen a psychiatrist, on the insistence of his doctor at the VA Hospital, a condition of his early discharge from the facility ….

Plagued by horrific, vivid nightmares and bouts of deep, black depression …. Hawke had finally had to agree, but he had spent the majority of those sessions in awkward silence, unable to relax and unwilling to bare his soul to a stranger ….

But he couldn't bare his soul to Dominic Santini either ….

He just couldn't share the burden ….

So, where did that leave him?

_**Right back where he started.**_

He let out a long deep sigh.

Stringfellow Hawke knew full well what was the cause of his present foul mood.

_**Guilt.**_

A deep rooted guilt and misery that had settled in his chest and gripped his heart like a clenched fist ….

Guilt over his inability to control the contents of his dreams ….

_**And shame **_….

Last night's dream had begun much as all the others had for the last few weeks ….

Gabrielle ….

So vibrant ….

So alive ….

So funny and so beautiful, and so damned pleased with herself for finding a chink in his armour ….

That scorching, barren desert ….

Her slender body burned, parched lips cracked and bleeding, but still trying to form a smile, as she looked up into his eyes and told him that even as she knew that she was going to die, she had thought about him ….

But then the dream had changed ….

Gabrielle's beloved face …. morphing into the hideous countenance of Charles Moffett ….

And then, changing once again to the familiar, smiling face of Natasha Banks ….

In the dream, she had reached out and taken his hand gently in her own and guided him away from Gabrielle's broken body, coaxing him to follow her across the desert toward a shimmering oasis that he knew was not there a moment before …. Offering him sweet, cool, fresh water, then taking him into her arms in the most tender and loving …. And healing …. Embrace that he had ever known ….

And he had woken abruptly, sweat pouring out of him, tears coursing down his face ….

Now, here he was, sitting inside Airwolf's engineering section, surrounded by memories of Tasha ….

Her presence with him in the cabin almost a tangible thing ….

He could even hear her sweet voice telling him, with a hint of amusement, that if he wasn't careful he would get his fingers burned and short out the weapons firing systems, if he stuck his fingers any deeper inside that open control panel ….

And a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth ….

Until he caught himself ….

And again the guilt slammed into him like a punch in the guts.

_**Oh Gabrielle …. I'm sorry …. So sorry ….**_

Yet, even as his mind screamed her name, the image that flashed before his eyes was one of Natasha Banks ….

From the night he had taken her dancing ….

A beautiful smile on her face as they had tried to untangle themselves on the dance floor, falling over each other with laughter ...

"String …." Dominic Santini's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts then, and Hawke closed his eyes tightly against the image. "You almost done in there …." Dominic's voice grew closer. "Oy …. Sleepin' on the job again …." He sighed and Hawke knew that the older man had poked his head into the rear cabin and was probably regarding him with curiosity.

"As if …." Hawke growled.

"You ok?"

"Just a headache …." Hawke opened his eyes and used his thumb and forefinger to wipe moisture from the corners of his eyes and to rub at a knot of tension over the bridge of his nose.

"You done?" Santini asked again.

"Yeah …. I'll know in a minute when Airwolf confirms acceptance of the new weapons, but everything seems fine back here …."

"Are you gonna take her up?" Hawke could not fail to hear the concern in Santini's voice again, as he closed up the open control panel carefully, and quickly scanned the readout screen at eye level above him.

"How are we for time?" Hawke asked, still waiting for Airwolf's weapons computer to flash up the confirmation code, an electronic thumbs up, that the weapons systems had uploaded the data from and accepted the installation of the new armaments and that all was well.

"It's past noon …. But if we left now, we could still be back at the hangar in time to get some lunch …." Santini advised, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Everything check out back there?"

"Yeah …. Considering everything she's been through lately …." Hawke could not suppress a smile at this.

"She can take it …. She's a tough old bird …."

"She's a lady!" Dominic defended. "Don't you listen to the nasty man, honey …." He patted the door frame affectionately and Hawke rolled his eyes heavenward in exasperation.

"You want I should leave you two alone?"

"Clown …." Santini admonished, throwing him a look of disgust. "So, are we going up?"

"No …. " Hawke let out a deep sigh. "We'll come back later …. next week …. when we have more time to do a proper check flight …."

"Ok …." But there was a hint of uncertainty in Dom's voice now. "You ok? Really?"

"No Dom …. As you very eloquently pointed out …. I'm not …. I'm beat. I thought maybe you could cut me loose early today, so I can get some sleep …." He gave Santini a wry smile. "I have an appointment this evening that I would really like to be fresh for ..."

"Well …. I don't know …. Stuff is kinda piling up at the office …. But …. Ok …." Santini grinned. "This appointment …. Wouldn't be with a gal by any chance, would it?"

"It might be …." Hawke drawled.

"Well …. I'll be damned …. Is that what's keeping you awake nights?"

"Yeah Dom …. But not in the way you think …." Hawke smirked now. "Dom …. About before …. I'm sorry …." He grew serious now.

"I know …. I just don't think it's good for you to keep things bottled up …. And I know my stories about me, your Dad and the war bore you …."

"No Dom …. They don't …." Hawke assured. "You keep him alive for me …. And I bless you for that …. I also live in hope that one day you'll come up with a story I haven't heard before …." He threw the older man a lopsided smile, knowing that he had just given Dominic Santini carte blanche, but he didn't care. It was much more important to build bridges.

"Hah!" A huge grin split Dominic Santini's face then, and Hawke knew that he had done the right thing.

"Dom …. I don't want you to worry over me …."

"Can't help it, son …." Dom's large hand came down to settle on Hawke's shoulder. "It's kinda been my job for a while now …." His eyes softened and he smiled softly as he gave the younger man's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Well, I don't like hurting you …."

"I don't like you hurting me either, but it's the price you pay for loving someone …." Dom spoke softly. "So, quit doing dumb things …. And _**talk to me,**_ String …. I know I'm only a crazy old geezer …. But ya never know …. I've been around the block a time or two …. I might even understand …."

Hawke shrugged non commitally and Dominic sighed softly.

"I'll be Ok, Dom …. There's just a lot of stuff going on up here …." Hawke tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "I just need a little time to work it all out …. To put it all into perspective …. Ok?"

"Ok …." Dominic seemed to accept his words, and gave the younger man's shoulder another quick squeeze of reassurance. "So, does this lady have a name?" He fished.

"Yeah …."

Santini arched an eyebrow when Hawke did not elaborate.

"Oh, Mr Wise Guy …. Ok …. Have it your way …. Always playing your cards close to your chest …. Just promise me one thing, will ya …."

Hawke raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Have fun!" Santini grinned. "It's meant to make you happy, kid, not tie you in knots and cause me to bite my finger nails! That ugly mug of yours is much easier on the eye when you smile …."

"Gee, thanks Dom …."

"Fun. _**F U N**_ …. Fun" Santini reminded. "Things have been getting way too serious around here, if you ask me …. So …. Promise?"

"I'll try …."

"No, don't try …. _**Do**_!"

"Ok …."

"And if it works out …. Invite me to dinner!"

"Ok Dom, you got a deal …. Now get out of the way …. so I can get out of here …."

"Are you saying I need to lose a little weight?" Santini looked offended now.

"As if …." Hawke drawled.

"Hey …. You ain't too old for me to put over my knee, mister …. You could stand a little meat on those bones of yours …. Maybe if you ate something other than fish and vegetables …."

"Yeah …. Yeah …. Dom …. Let's get out of here, huh?" Hawke wrestled with a smile, noting at last the confirmation code he had been waiting for, flashing on the screen over head.

"I suppose I'm driving …." Santini grouched.

"You betchya …. I can barely keep my eyes open …."

"Well what are ya waiting for?"

"For you to move your ass!"

"Oh …. Yeah …. Right …."

Seven twenty five that evening found Stringfellow Hawke, in the Santini Air jeep, heading along the Pacific Coast Highway, eyes protected from the glare of the late evening sun behind his flying shades, as he kept a look out for the turn off the highway ….

A pull in really, where people stopped to take in the incredible view over the beautiful expanse of the blue Pacific Ocean.

It was a piece of rough ground on top of a natural outcrop of rocks and cliffs, a natural observation platform, and for those who knew the place, and felt brave enough, there was a steep, rugged dirt path with weathered wooden boards placed at intervals to make rough steps, which snaked down to the small sandy cove at the foot of the cliffs.

Stringfellow Hawke and his older brother, St John, had discovered the spot years before, when as teenagers, cruising with their surfer buddies, they had needed a place to pull in to do some serious necking in the back seat with their current belles ….

Or to walk hand in hand, barefoot, in the incoming surf, watching the sun sink toward the horizon, and make plans for the future ….

It had been years since he had been back here ….

Not since he had gotten back from the tour of 'Nam, when St John had been declared missing in action …. And he had sought out all their old haunts, just so that he could feel close to his brother once more.

He spotted the turn off and immediately his heart sank. The parking lot was empty, no other vehicles parked on the churned up gravel, which meant that she hadn't arrived yet.

He took that as a bad sign.

Tasha had never been late for one of their dates ….

_**Except the last one ….**_ He reminded himself ruefully.

But that had been the Tasha that he had thought he had known ….

This woman was practically a stranger ….

An unknown quantity ….

He stopped the jeep, facing out to sea, made sure that the parking brake was secure and then let out a deep sigh.

It was still early.

He would give her the benefit of the doubt ….

He'd waited almost two and a half years ….

He'd give her five more minutes.

As he gazed out to sea, Hawke could not help wondering how she had come to find this place ….

And who she had been here with before ….

It was truly a beautiful and peaceful spot.

A good place to be alone if you had a lot of stuff on your mind ….

An even better place to be silly and romantic with someone you loved ….

He glanced down at his watch ….

Seven thirty on the dot ….

He turned around in his seat to scan the highway …. Then realised that he had no idea what model car she would be driving.

_**Patience fella ….**_

He sank down a little lower in his seat and stifled a soft yawn with his fist, his thoughts turning back to Dominic Santini.

The older man had resumed his cheery banter as he drove them back from the Lair …. Had even burst into song …. Italian opera for crying out loud! Which had actually made Hawke cringe …. And they had laughed ….

Hawke had put up with the racket …. Relieved to have things back on a more normal footing.

Back at the hangar, Santini had tossed Hawke his spare house keys and told him to make use of the facilities, and Hawke had gratefully accepted the offer. Dom lived in a quiet neighbourhood, with most people out during the day, working …. And it was only a few minutes drive away from the hangar.

Only stopping to collect clean clothes from his locker, Hawke had driven straight to Santini's home, kicked off his shoes before falling fully clothed down onto the older man's Queen size bed and had instantly fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, from which he did not stir until almost five thirty in the evening.

After a long hot shower, he had changed into casual light weight beige pants and a rust coloured shirt, over which he slipped a soft brown leather windbreaker, and then added white socks and casual light brown suede shoes to complete the outfit, before scrutinizing his appearance in the bathroom mirror.

He hadn't been sure what to wear ….

After all, this wasn't a date ….

But, he hadn't wanted to turn up in his work clothes either ….

He decided that what he had on would have to do.

He also noted that he looked much better ….

The lines of fatigue around his eyes and the dark shadows beneath them not so prominent.

He certainly felt better.

Much more in control

_**Oh yeah ….**_

Outwardly he might look calm …. Poised …. In control ….

But inside, his stomach was tying its self in knots and his palms were already sweating ….

His thoughts were rudely disturbed by the sound of tires crunching on gravel, and he used the rear view mirror to see who else had turned into the make do parking lot, and watched as a small white Fiat turned into the space beside him, the driver, a young woman, lifting her hand to wiggle her fingers at him in greeting.

_**Tasha …..**_

His heart slammed against his ribs and his stomach performed a perfect somersault as he watched her get out of the car. She was wearing denim blue jeans and flat white pumps on her feet, and a pale blue light weight bomber jacket, fastened up to the neck. Her hair was also pulled back, neatly captured in a pretty silver filigree barrette, which glinted in the evening sunlight.

And in her hand, he suddenly noticed, she was carrying a couple of paper bags of take out food from a well known burger franchise, as she walked around the jeep and slid into the seat beside him.

"Hi …." She said a little breathlessly. "I hope you don't mind …." She lifted the bags of food for him to get a closer look. "But I'm starving …." She smiled benignly at him, unravelling the rolled up top of one of the bags and suddenly his nose was assaulted by the smell of cooked meat. "I wasn't sure if you'd have eaten …. But I don't mind sharing …." She offered.

"No …. Thanks …." He tried to cover his disgust at the thought of the greasy burger, but obviously didn't pull it off, because suddenly she was regarding him with wide eyed horror.

"Oh damn …. I forgot …. You're veggie, aren't you …." She looked appalled by her mistake, and snatched the bag away from him. "Sugar …." She cursed, and Hawke found himself struggling with a smile now.

_**Damn her ….**_

"Did you just swear at me?"

"Sort of …." A soft blush settled on her cheeks now, but her lips were curving into a sheepish smile.

"If by 'veggie' you mean I don't eat meat, then yes …." He confirmed for her.

"I've got fries too …."She wore such an endearing expression on her face that Hawke wanted to laugh out loud.

"No …. Really …. I'm not hungry …." He told her, however, his stomach chose that moment to let out a loud growl.

They both laughed ….

And Hawke felt all the tension suddenly drain out of his body.

"I'll share them with you …." She offered again, beaming at him happily. "And there's coffee in there too …. You do drink coffee, don't you?"

"Frequently." He smiled now.

"Thank God for that …."

She sorted out the food and handed him a small white Styrofoam cup of tepid black coffee, which he sipped from, while she took a bite of her burger, with obvious relish.

"Mmmmm" She savoured the food, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing. "I've discovered that I am something of a junk food junkie …." She confessed, taking another bite with obvious pleasure. "I have to be careful though …. Ration myself …. Else the pounds pile on …." She grinned, reaching out to offer him the carton of French Fries, which he declined once again with a small shake of his head.

"I noticed you …. Filled out …." He said tactfully.

"Mmmm, I noticed you noticing …." She grinned.

"I just meant …. on you it looks good …." He stammered.

"Thanks …."

She blushed again. "And thanks for being so patient with me …."

"Eat your dinner …."

He turned away then, fixing his gaze back on the view of the ocean, and took the occasional sip of the cool, bitter coffee while she devoured her meal.

She was very clever ….

Bringing the food ….

It meant that he had to wait ….

Couldn't just wade in there demanding answers.

She couldn't count on him eating with her, although she would probably have hoped that with a mouth full of food, he wouldn't be so inclined to rant and rave at her ….

And if he didn't eat ….

She knew him well enough to know that he would be enough of a gentleman to allow her to finish her meal in peace before getting down to business.

And that while he waited ….

His anger would fizzle out ….

_**Smart lady.**_

_**Disarming him with charm and humour.**_

Hawke was acutely aware of her every move in the seat beside him as she ate, and when she had finished and cleared away the debris of her meal, dropping the bags in the footwell between her feet, he offered her what was left of the coffee in the Styrofoam cup. She took the cup from him and carefully took a small sip, then pulled a sour face and instantly handed the cup back to him. Hawke carefully tipped the disgusting dregs out of the jeep's window and then deposited the flimsy cup on the dashboard before him.

She let out a soft sigh.

Replenished.

"Isn't that amazing …."

Hawke turned to look at her at last and found that she was gazing at the view, staring at the pearlescent colours lighting up the sky as the sun began its inevitable sinking toward the distant horizon, the expression on her face unreadable.

He did not answer.

He knew that she hadn't expected him to.

"There's something so beautiful and peaceful about a sunset …. Something so soothing …. Reassuring …. The promise of a new day to come …. I love this place …. I come here a lot …. To think …. To walk …. Just to watch the sun go down …."

She grew silent.

Thoughtful.

Hawke waited.

After several minutes of silence, Hawke decided that he had been enough of a gentleman.

He wanted answers.

"Tasha …."

"Oh String …." She said his name on a long, ragged breath. "Do we really have to do this? Why can't we just sit here and enjoy the view …. Why can't we just sit here and be happy to see each other again …."

"Tasha …."

"Why can't you let the past rest? Let it be, String. No good can come of it …." Her voice was so soft and low, even with his heightened sense of hearing, he had to strain to catch her words. "Why can't we just be happy to have found each other again …. And make a fresh start …. A new beginning…."

"Tasha …." He peeled off his shades and fixed her with his most severe no nonsense glower.

She sighed in resignation.

"Ok …. I guess that is why we are both here …. Just remember String …. _**You**_ asked …. _**You**_ are the one doing the pushing …. I just wish you'd consider the reasons why I am so reluctant to talk about it …."

He arched an eyebrow quizzically then.

"Did you ever consider that it might just be too painful for me?" She asked softly.

"I _**know**_ it was painful for _**me**_, Tasha …." He ground out on a ragged sigh. "I was there …. _**Where the hell were you?**_ Tell me ... Help me to understand …. I really want to understand …. What the hell made you disappear into thin air like that, Tasha ..."

"Alex …." She cut him off abruptly before he could go on. "My name is Alexandra Beecham. Alex to my friends …. Natasha Banks no longer exists."

"You look pretty much damned like her to me!" He bit back.

"Looks can be deceptive."

Her tone was several degrees cooler now, and her eyes were like hard chips of obsidian, boring into him.

"Believe me …. Natasha Banks is dead. Officially …." She closed her eyes and drew in a long ragged breath, which she then expelled slowly, and Hawke could not fail to see the pain etched into her pretty features.

" …. she died in a car wreck in Phoenix, Arizona, on Thursday, November 26th, 1981 …." She told him, eyes still closed, her voice catching slightly in her throat ….

But then she took in another cleansing breath and opened her eyes, and now Hawke could see a kind of acceptance …. Resolution …. in her dark eyes.

He cast his mind back and calculated that that was probably the last time that he had seen her, in the lab at Red Star …. When he had left for the evening to freshen up for their date ….

But what the hell had she done for the rest of the time ….

"_**I**_ am Alexandra Beecham." She told him sternly. "From this point on, even if we never see each other again …. You'd do well to remember that Natasha Banks is dead …. Let her go, String …. I have."

"What the hell is _**that**_ about, Tasha …."

"Alex!"

"Ok …. Alex …." He placated, noting the rage in her eyes now. "Why the change of identity?"

"It was …. Necessary …."

"So why not go the whole hog and change your face too?" He asked, his thoughts now turning to the possibility that she had somehow become embroiled in a situation that had required her to be taken into the witness protection scheme, or some other Federally funded programme that made people disappear from their lives ….

For their own safety ….

She read his frown and logically followed the direction of his thoughts.

"It wasn't planned …." She told him on a long, ragged breath, dragging her gaze away from his confused face. "And it had to be done …. Quickly …."

"Why? _**What?**_" he demanded. "What the hell happened …."

She noticed that he deliberately did not use a name now ….

"Something that I had feared for a long time …. But had hoped to avoid …."

"What?"

"Moffett …."

Her voice was so low he wasn't sure that he had heard her correctly, but he could not mistake the look of revulsion on her face, nor the shudder that ran the length of her body.

And he suddenly had the most awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach ….

He didn't need her to paint a picture for him ….

He was more than capable of imagining what might have come to pass ….

He felt his anger rise, along with the bile in the back of his throat.

"Did he …." He suddenly couldn't finish the question, for the lump rising in his throat, Charles Moffett's ugly, arrogant, self satisfied, grinning countenance swimming before his eyes.

"Rape me?" She finished the question for him. "Is that what you want to know, String?" She prompted in a calm voice, fixing him with steady dark brown eyes now. "Did he rape me?"

She paused for just a moment ….

"No String …." She let out a ragged breath then. "Oh there's no doubt that that was his original intention …." She told him bluntly then. "But he let his anger get the better of him …. He lost control …. and his needs changed … There's no need for me to go into detail …. I can see that you're very creative imagination is doing the work for me …. Suffice to say …. The level of violence …. The need to inflict pain …. To wipe me out …. Escalated …. And when he had had his fun …. He tried to finish it by strangling me …. Left me for dead …."

She closed her eyes then and swallowed convulsively, the only hint to Hawke that she was not as strong or as controlled as she tried to appear.

"He very nearly succeeded too …." She concluded on a ragged breath, trying to school her features into her previous calm mask, but the effect was marred by the sudden glistening of tears in her dark eyes.

It was all Stringfellow Hawke could do not to pull her roughly into his arms right there.

"Why?" He ground out in a low, gruff voice instead, suspecting that he already knew the answer.

"He found out I was seeing you …." She said simply.

"Bastard …."

"Amen to that …." There was something so bitter and soul destroying about her tone then. "He couldn't bear the idea that he had a rival …."

"But I thought he was your uncle …."

"No …. That was what he wanted everyone to think. Good old Uncle Charles, looking out for his little protégé …. No-one would dare question his true intentions, even if they became suspicious about his true feelings for me …."

"Actually …." She said after drawing in another ragged breath. "The sick son of a bitch was my Godfather …. My parents' best friend …. They trusted that twisted, psychopath to take care of me, never knowing what was really on his mind …."

"And because of me …. He nearly _**killed **_you …." Hawke ground out. "Why the hell didn't someone come get me …. Tell me …. I would have …."

"You would have killed him." She finished for him, matter of factly.

"Yeah …. I would have killed him …." He let out a ragged sigh then.

"And maybe he would have been ready for you …. Maybe _**he**_ would have killed _**you**_ …. He certainly hated you enough …. And he was more than capable of doing it too ….." She let out another ragged breath then.

"_**I**_ told them not to involve you, Hawke …. _**Me**_ …. With the very last breath in my body, before I blacked out …. Sank into a coma that lasted for almost six months …."

"Jesus …." He hissed.

_**A coma? **_

_**She had been that badly hurt ….**_

That goddamned maniac ….

"But why?"

"Because Moffett took great pleasure in telling me what he planned for you …. Oh yes …. He intended to kill you …. But that wasn't enough …. Simply killing you wouldn't satisfy his _**sick**_ needs …. He could have done that at any time he wanted …. Told me as much ….. No, he wanted so much more …. He wanted to torture you …. But not just physically …. He wanted to torment you with sick images of what he had done to me first …. How he had hurt me …. _**Defiled me**_ ….. He fully intended to have as much fun with you as he could …. To make you suffer …. And he told me all about it …. With great glee …. I knew that he would do it too …. And I couldn't let that happen …."

"So you wanted to protect me …." He said in a low voice edged with awe.

"Yes …. But it wasn't just me …. Archangel …."

"He knew about this!" Hawke exploded then.

"Yes …. I was found by a Security guard in the lab, that night, and he called Archangel …. It was bad, String …." She swallowed involuntarily then and he knew that she was reliving the very real and vivid pain.

"I won't lie to you …. Moffett had completely lost control …. And it was touch a go for a few days …. They weren't sure if I would survive …. There was severe head trauma …. Swelling of the brain …. I had to have surgery to remove a blood clot …. They also weren't sure if I would suffer brain damage because of it …. And from the lack of oxygen …." She let out a long, ragged breath, regarding him with large, anxious brown eyes as he gazed back at her with open mouthed astonishment.

"My God …." He choked out at last.

"Not knowing what else to do. Michael …. Archangel …. immediately took charge, sealed off the area, arranged for my immediate medical needs …. And then swore everyone who knew about what had happened to secrecy …. Put out the rumour that I had received bad news from my family in England …. had been granted immediate compassionate leave …. To protect me." She paused briefly.

"And to protect you too …." She added softly and when he made to protest, she stilled him with a gentle hand against his elbow.

"Michael admired you a great deal, String, and he wanted to make sure that Moffett didn't get a chance to destroy the one pilot who could really make Airwolf fulfil all her design promises ... Reach her full potential …." She told him softly. "It was only in _**your**_ hands that she _**really**_ came alive, String …. Archangel knew that …. And so did Moffett."

"That's Michael …. Always protecting his ass …. Assets …."

"He liked you, String …. But yes …. I guess he had a lot invested in the project too …. and he already knew that Moffett was a liability by then …." She sighed softly. "Of course, he didn't know about us …. Well …. He knew that we were becoming friends ... But he was smart enough to realise that it was just enough to tip Moffett over the edge …."

"When I woke up, nearly six months later, he was the one who came to me to tell me that you were safe …. That you were no longer at Red Star …. That you were safely out of Moffett's reach …. That although in the beginning you had asked questions, you had finally bought the gossip that I had returned to England and my family …. He was glad about that, because you could have been a real thorn in his side if you had decided to pursue the matter …."

She drew back her hand from his elbow then and regarded him with a steady gaze now, relief in her eyes at finally being able to explain to him everything that had happened back then.

"And that would have made Moffett suspicious too. He thought he had _**killed **_me, and that Archangel was just as keen to cover up a murder in the lab as he was …. the story about my having returned to the bosom of my family rang true because Moffett knew that just before the incident in the lab, I had received news from my mother that my father had lung cancer …. Michael counted on the fact that Moffett wouldn't call my parents because they would have been suspicious of his asking after me …. After all, I was supposed to be under his protection …. His guardianship …. He knew I wasn't really there, because although there was no body to be found, he _**believed**_ that he had killed me …."

"And then Michael made me an offer …. We struck a deal …. He would help me to start over, once I had recovered, give me a new identity, help me to find a new job …. A place to live …. Some place where good ole Uncle Charles could never find me …. Even by accident …. And in return, I would do work for the Firm …. Work out the glitches in some of their computer programmes ... Come up with security measures to prevent unauthorised access, that sort of thing …. And then, in a year, when the dust had settled and I had worked out what I really wanted to do with my life, I would be free to do as I liked, go where I wanted …. To make a new start for myself …."

She paused then for a moment, staring out to sea once more, her expression one of such sadness that it tore at Stringfellow Hawke's heart.

She was incredible.

Her actions so selfless …. so noble, and all designed to protect him, even when she could have been dying ….

Her only thoughts of _**him**_ …. _**his**_ wellbeing ….

There was so much that he wanted to say to her ….

To thank her for her selfless actions ….

Her protection ….

To tell her that despite all that, she had been wrong …..

_**So wrong ….**_

She should have let them tell him ….

He could have been there for her ….

He could handle himself …. Wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done …. He would have dealt with Moffett and been there to support her, care for her ….

_**Love her ….**_

Then he realised just how ungrateful that would sound ….

And he wisely kept silent.

"It cost me dearly, String ….. This deal I made …. It meant that I had to turn my back on all the good things in my life …. Without a word …. To leave behind all the people that I loved …. Wanted to be with …. My parents ….. My poor parents, they think that I was killed in that road accident …." Her voice caught in her throat then, but she struggled on valiantly.

"Burned beyond recognition so the only way to identify the body was through dental records …. Supplied by Archangel …." Again her voice wobbled, and she paused for a moment to take a calming breath.

"I had to walk away from all the things that mattered to me …. Including Airwolf ….. _**You**_ …." Her voice trailed away then. "But I knew that none of those things would be safe, so long as Moffett might discover that I was still alive …. And he could find me ... Natasha Banks would never be safe from him …. Ever …. And neither would you …. And so Natasha Banks had to die …. November 26th, 1981 …. And I became patient X …."

"I can look after myself, you know …."

"Sure you can, but what kind of a life is that for a man …. always looking over his shoulder …. Always wondering if today will be the day when Moffett made his move …. That he would meet his end …. Or you would …. I couldn't bear the thought, String ..." Fresh tears welled up in her eyes then.

"I had begun to witness a miracle, String …. You had suddenly come alive before my eyes …. More relaxed, at ease, happy …. revealing more of your personality, and your sense of humour …. I couldn't condemn you to the kind of half life that you were just beginning to emerge from …." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut then, and two fat tears rolled slowly down her soft cheeks.

_**How could she know that that was exactly what had happened …. That he would withdraw even deeper into himself ….**_

Stringfellow Hawke suddenly felt a burning need to reach out with his thumb and wipe those tears, and all others that might threaten to mar her beauty for the rest of her life, away ….

But he resisted the temptation.

It wasn't the time to make such a gesture ….

"I knew that so long as you were with the Firm you would be a target …. But I also knew that there was a degree of protection there too …. You were too important to the project …. More important than Moffett so if it ever came to a showdown …. Archangel would always be in your camp …."

She hung her head briefly and when she lifted her head once more, and turned to look at him, the tears were still coursing down her face.

"And so, I accepted Archangel's help …. He became a Guardian Angel to us both …. Although he promised me that you would never be aware of it …. And so, on that day …. The day I woke up and knew that you were safe …. The day that I knew that what I had done was worth the sacrifice …. May 19th, 1982, Alexandra Beecham was born …."

She surprised him, then by smiling radiantly, despite the tears.

"I like her …." She told him now. "I like the woman that I am …. That I have become …." She dashed away the tears with the back of her hand.

"Alex is completely opposite to Tasha …. Yet she is everything that Natasha Banks always dreamed she would become …. She is strong and confident and has self belief …. She makes her own decisions and doesn't have to defer to anyone else. She doesn't live in constant fear anymore either …. She knows how to take care of herself now …. She's smart and sexy and in control of her destiny …. In ways that Natasha Banks could never have been."

"I like her too …. Alexandra Beecham …." He knew that it was going to take some getting used to ….

Calling her by a new name ….

To him she would always be Tasha ….

But she was happy with her new identity, and there was no way that he would do anything to undermine her happiness and her new found self assurance.

"But she's not really so different from Tasha …. She has her charm, wit, humour, looks and intelligence …. All the things that I found endearing …." And attractive, he added silently.

"I'm not that naïve child anymore, String …. I've grown up …."

"You were always grown up …. Alex …." He tried out her new name and smiled wryly when she grinned. "Aside from myself of course …." He grinned now. "You were the most mature person I knew at Red Star …. So …. Where does that leave us …. Alex?"

"That depends on Stringfellow Hawke …." She reached out and laid her hand gently on top of his, which were folded in his lap. "There's no reason why Alex Beecham, and Stringfellow Hawke can't become friends …."

Hawke could think of two or three even before she had finished the sentence.

_**Airwolf ….**_

_**Archangel ….**_

_**Moffett ….**_

_**Did she even know that he was dead?**_

_**What would she think of him if she discovered that he had killed him in the end ….**_

"There's no reason why anyone should ever know that they didn't meet for the first time yesterday, in the school yard …. In front of lots of witnesses …."

"Friends …."

"It's a start …. We're different people now, String …. We're both older …. Wiser …. We've both moved on …. We can't expect to be able to pick up where we left off …."

"And where was that?"

"I think you know …." She blushed very becomingly then. "You are a very charming and engaging man, Stringfellow Hawke …. There is much about you that I admired …. We can get back to that place again …. Maybe even beyond it …. I had hoped ….. that you felt the same way too …. "

_**If only she knew ….**_

It was all he could do to keep his hands off her now.

The heat from her small, delicate hands burning his skin where they touched his own flesh.

"So, it depends if you can forgive and forget …. If you can put the past behind us …. But I need to know that you know _**who**_ you are with, String …. Alex isn't Tasha …. No matter how much I might _**look**_ like her …. If you are going to be with me, String, then you have to say goodbye to Tasha …. Grieve for her, if you need to …. And then maybe we can have a chance to begin …." She squeezed his hand gently. "It's up to you …."

"There's nothing to forgive …. Alex …." He spoke in a soft, slightly gruff voice now. "You thought you were protecting me …. That's tells me so much about how much you cared for me …. I would have done the same for you …."

"Friends?"

"Friends …."

"Good …. I'm so pleased, String …. It's not like I have that many friends …. Although I have more than Tasha Banks could ever have hoped for …. Good friends, even Sophie Rutherford …. Although she can be far from subtle. …"

"I noticed …." He chuckled.

"String …. Did you re-enlist with the Army?"

"No."

"But the uniform …. Not that you weren't dashing and suave and very elegant in it …." A blush coloured her cheeks again in a most becoming fashion and he smiled.

He was kind of proud of the fact that he had measured up with the same dimensions he had way back when he had been inducted ….

So Rutherford had been right about the uniform after all ….

A wide smile spread across his lips then.

"It was purely for that one occasion …. I've done my time in the service of my country, now I fly for my own pleasure …." He was quiet for a moment, then asked: "What made you chose teaching?"

"I love kids …. And I had to do something with my very expensive education …. I have degrees in Mathematics and Computer Sciences …. It didn't take a giant leap in logic to decide what to do with them. Part of the deal with Archangel was arranging for me to go to school to get a teaching qualification …."

"So how long have you been in LA?"

"Six months, I moved here for the start of the new school year in September. I found a nice place to live …. Close to the beach. And I really love my work at the school …. Kids can be such sponges, soaking everything up …. But then there are those who resent having to be there at all, and just want to disrupt everything …. Hey, how about a walk …. I need to work off all those calories …. There's a path down to the cove …. If you're up to it?"

"Sure …. Although …. Actually …. I'm beginning to feel rather peckish myself …." And right on cue, his stomach growled loudly once more.

They both laughed.

"Another time then …. You'd better go find yourself something to eat …. And I'd better be going too …." He looked disappointed and she smiled softly, reaching out to trace slender fingers tenderly down his rugged cheek. "I have papers to grade …. But, what say you call me when you know what your schedule is like …. and we'll see each other again …. If you would like …."

"I would like …. Most definitely I would like …."

"Good …." She leaned carefully across the seat and pressed soft, warm lips to his cheek, where her fingers had just been stroking, then drew away slowly, her deep brown eyes smoky and holding the hint of a promise that Hawke found himself hoping would not take them too long to fulfil ….

And then she was getting out of the jeep, taking her empty food bags with her, wiggling her fingers at him in farewell as she opened up the Fiat, got inside and started the engine.

Despite the fact that he was ravenous, Stringfellow Hawke remained seated in the jeep, long after Alex Beecham had gone ….

Long after the sun had finally sunk beyond the horizon and the stars covered the sky like diamonds randomly scattered on black velvet.

She had been right about sunsets ….

At least about this one ….

Peaceful and soothing ….

The promise of a new day ….

A new beginning ….

And he suddenly could not wait for the sun to rise ….


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three.

_**Russia - Somewhere In Siberia.**_

_**Mid April, 1984.**_

"Well comrade Doctor, you are half way through your allotted time on this project …. And, if your expenditure is anything to go by …. You haven't killed the subject yet …." Sevchenko chuckled as he pinned Jorge Dimitriov with a steely glare. "Moscow are asking daily for an update on your progress …. And I find that I am no longer able …. Or willing …. to make excuses for your lack of …. Detail. So, comrade Doctor …. You _**will**_ make a full report to me, _**now **_…."

"I have already told you, Comrade General …. Things are going as well as can be expected."

"Not good enough …. For me …. And certainly not for Moscow …. Make life easy for yourself Dr Dimitriov …. A simple answer is all that is required …. Will he be ready?"

Jorge Dimitriov let out a long sigh and sank back further in his seat. It was not often that he was summoned to the General's office, but it was never the most pleasant of experiences when he was.

His patient was a strong willed individual ….

But, finally, after weeks of perseverance, they had managed to break his spirit ….

And although he was loathed to tell the General about the breakthrough Jorge Dimitriov suspected that if Moscow did not get some good news soon, they would all know the wrath of the Kremlin.

The plastic surgeon Andropov was a true miracle worker and the scars from the last lot of surgery were healing nicely ….

The likeness uncanny ….

Not even his own mother would know the difference ….

They had had him on a weight reducing and fitness regime that meant that his body was now lean and hard and muscular ….

And they had a voice coach working on deepening his voice ….

And at long last ….

After the last session of drugs and hypnosis ….

His mind was finally theirs too ….

"Well Comrade Doctor?" Sevchenko prompted. "Will he be ready?" He demanded again, and suddenly became aware of the slow, self satisfied smile that was spreading across the good doctor's face.

"Comrade General …. Yes …. I believe so …."

"Good …. Good …. Then I will detain you from your work no longer …. Moscow, I am sure will be …. Relieved …. by this news …."

"Thank you Comrade General …."

Dimitriov made a hasty departure from the General's office, needing to return to his patient, wanting to capitalise on the recent break through and to make sure that none of his incompetent staff inadvertently planted a suggestion in his mind that would undermine all their hard work.

He was still very susceptible ….

It would not take much to destroy the tenuous link they had forged in his mind ….

Today he _**believed**_ that he _**was**_ Stringfellow Hawke ….

They had to make sure that tomorrow, he _**knew**_ he was Stringfellow Hawke and that he had _**never been anyone else ….**_

They had to take things slowly ….

They couldn't afford any setbacks ….

And Jorge Dimitriov was determined that nothing was going to get in the way of his succeeding on this project ….

Because it was his ticket out of this hellhole and back to the real world ….

_**Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean ….**_

_**Sunday, 6**__**th**__** May, 1984.**_

Seated in the cockpit of Airwolf, right hand resting lightly on the joystick, Stringfellow Hawke was blissfully unaware of the soppy, dreamy expression on his face and that he had been humming the same tune over and over for the last twenty minutes.

He had deliberately chosen a course that would take them out over the ocean, mainly because it meant that he could relax and not have to worry about their being tracked by ground radar, and he could give Airwolf her head, so to speak, and allow her to reach optimum speeds.

The flight this morning was essentially to give Dominic a chance to check the radar, guidance and navigation systems, and to ensure that the small adjustments they had had to make to Airwolf's main rotor were adequate.

She had taken quite a shaking when Hawke had been forced to make his run through the canyon under heavy bombardment from Air Force bombers on a training exercise just over three weeks ago, and it had taken that long, snatching a few hours here and there, in between catching up with their workload at Santini Air, to acquire parts and supplies and to physically do the work required.

_**Damn that D G Bogard ….**_

_**Talk about a man on a mission ….**_

_**Obsessed ….**_

_**Yeah, and his obsession had been to get Airwolf back …. **_

_**And he hadn't cared if he had destroyed Hawke in the process ….**_

It had been a bit hair raising, even for Hawke, who had come out of it wondering if his eardrums and sinuses would ever be the same again and with more than a few loose teeth.

His comment to Dom over the radio about being 'born in that briar patch', had been more bravado than anything else …. Designed to reassure Dominic that he was ok and not reduced to vapour or pulverized atoms at the bottom of the canyon ….

It had called for some real 'flying by the seat of his pants' reactions, and he knew that if the visor on his helmet hadn't automatically engaged, he would probably have been blinded by the white light emitted from the explosions.

That much excitement he could do without.

So this gentle little spin out over the ocean was just what he needed.

It meant he could relax a little more than usual and allow his mind to wander ….

At present he was thinking about Alex ….

And the very pleasant evening they had spent together at her place.

She had made dinner, a new vegetarian recipe, in his honour, although he had hated to tell her that the jury was still out on that one ….

He had eaten if dutifully, just the same ….

Although he suspected that the clenched jawed way he had swallowed each mouthful might just have given him away ….

And then they had gone for a gentle stroll, hand in hand, on the beach, at sunset ….

That was fast becoming a habit that he was enjoying ….

Then they returned to her little house and she had opened wine and put music on the stereo and they had played backgammon for a little while.

When the Vivaldi piece had finished playing she had got up from the couch and thumbed absently through her record collection and he had gone to stand behind her, putting his hands gently around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder so that he could see the record sleeves as she thumbed through them.

He had liked the way that she had relaxed in his arms and leaned back slightly against him.

They were mostly classical music, but she had a few 'pop' records too, by artists that he had vaguely heard of, but which were not to his taste …. And others he had not heard of at all because they were English or European ….

And he had suddenly had an idea for a nice way to end their romantic evening together.

When she had reached out for the Brahms Cello Sonata No 1 in E Minor, knowing that as a cellist himself, Hawke would approve, he had stilled her hand and she had turned slightly in his arms to face him, frowning. "What? You've got something against Brahms?"

"No …. But it's not the kind of thing you can dance to …." He had smiled suggestively then and wiggled his hips.

"Dance? Are you feeling ok?" She had grinned back. "You don't have a temperature do you? C'mon String, you know what an uncoordinated klutz I am …." She had turned back then to slot the Brahms back into its place in the record collection.

"I'm feeling kinda brave …."

"Did you bring your steel capped work boots with you …. Or maybe I should just ring the hospital and pre-book an X ray slot for you …. And all those lovely broken toes you'll have …."

"That won't be necessary …. Not with what I have in mind …." He had chuckled softly, nuzzling the back of her neck with his nose.

" Ok …." He had felt the delightful shiver run down her spine as he had tickled her neck with his nose. "How about this?" She had thumbed through the record collection and pulled out a selection of Strauss waltzes.

"Too energetic …. Try something a little _**slower**_ …. Something that you don't have to move your _**feet**_ to …." He had hinted.

"The only kind of dancing I know that doesn't require you to move your feet is the sort they used to do in discos back in England, when we danced around our handbags! And you didn't need a fella to do that kind of dancing with either …."

He had let out a soft groan.

"Perhaps you should demonstrate …."

"Put some _**smoochy **_music on …. and I'll do just that …."

"Smoochy, eh …. Mmmmm …. Well, I guess …. There's always good old reliable Mr Manilow …."

"Who?" She had nudged him gently in the ribs with her elbow. "Whatever mood you might be in, Barry Manilow has a song for it …. Falling in love …. Falling out of love …. Unrequited Love …. Love going bad …. He has a heart wrenching, stomach clenching, gut aching ballad to suit …."

"Really? Ok …. Not usually my cuppa tea …." He had mimicked her English accent, badly, and she had pulled a face, crossing her eyes. "If the wind changes, you'll stick like that …." He had had to force himself to smother a grin at her zany expression. "But ... Like I said, I'm feeling brave …."

"Don't say you weren't warned …."

"On second thoughts …." He had reached out and selected another record from the collection, a compilation of 40's ballads which he had just spotted and handed it to her. "I think we'll be safer with this …."

"Spoil sport …." She had chuckled.

"Heart wrenching, stomach clenching, and gut aching we'll do another time …. Right now, I feel like _**smooching**_ …."

He had moved away while she put the record on the turntable, and soon the soft strains of 'I'll Be Seeing You (In All The Old Familiar Places) ….' Filled her warm, pretty living room.

"C'mere …." He had spoken softly, opening his arms invitingly when she seemed reluctant to join him in the centre of the room. "I don't bite …." He had promised. "Even with broken toes …." He had chuckled, suddenly liking the coy look that had settled on her pretty face.

She had slowly walked around the couch and joined him in the centre of the small room, before an open fireplace that was there mainly for its decorative purposes, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth pensively.

"Relax …" He had coaxed. "You need to come a little closer …." He had invited. "Now …. This hand …." He had taken one hand, her left, and placed it gently on his right shoulder, her open fingers splayed against his back. "Goes here …. That's right …. And this hand …." He had captured her right hand and pressed soft, warm lips to her slender, delicate fingers, before taking her hand gently in his own. "Goes here …."

"Mmmm …. Yes …. It's coming back to me now …." She had smiled demurely then, and he knew that she was getting into the spirit of things with him …. Catching onto his mood ….

"So, this hand must go here …." She had taken his right hand and placed it gently on the curve of her left hip, his open fingers also splayed into the small of her back. "And this hand must go here …." She had captured his right hand and pressed a soft kiss into his work roughened palm before setting it down carefully on her left shoulder.

"You're a quick study …." He had chuckled softly, gazing into her warm sherry brown eyes, which had been dancing with amusement.

"Thank you, Mr Hawke …. You are not the first to have commented …." She had batted her eyes then and affected her best sultry, Southern Belle accent, which had almost been his undoing.

"So …. What next? Is this the bit where I toss you over my shoulder, then put my foot on your stomach and give a victory salute to the crowd, while the referee counts you out?"

Unable to stop himself, taken completely by surprise, Hawke had let out a loud guffaw, intrigued by the way her mind worked and her unique sense of humour, clearly able to see in his mind's eye, Alex standing over his prone body, fist raised to a cheering crowd and a look of pure glee on her beloved face.

He had quickly pulled himself together and fixed her with one of his no nonsense glares.

It had been obvious that she too was wrestling to keep a straight face, but she persisted and somehow managed to dredge up a look of pure, wide eyed innocence.

"No …." He had growled.

"No?"

"No …. Wires crossed, I think …. That's _**wrestling**_ …. Not _**waltzing **_…." Although if he were absolutely honest with himself, he wouldn't mind doing a little wrestling with her any time soon ….

"My apologies …. Maybe you could demonstrate _**that**_ another time too …." Her voice had dropped slightly and the smoky, sexy quality of it had sent a delicious shiver running down his spine ….

Oh yes ….

They were both definitely on the same wavelength ….

"Don't tempt me …." He had growled back.

"So, you were going to tell me what happens next …."

"This …." He had pulled her roughly against his hard, lean body, tightening his arm around her waist and she had let out a softly gasped "Oooh …." As her body had come into contact with his and her eyes had been wide, her expression startled as she had gazed up into his face.

"Now what …." She had enquired breathlessly, gazing deep into his blue eyes.

"Sway …."

"Sway ….?"

"Yeah …. Sway …. Like this …." He had demonstrated by moving very slightly from side to side, mostly from the hips, keeping his feet still.

"That's it? Sway?"

"That's it …. You can do _**that**_, can't you?"

And she had promptly demonstrated most effectively that she could indeed _**do that, **_her slender body moving gently in time to the music, her hips swaying very provocatively against his.

They had quickly settled into a nice, gentle rhythm, and it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world for her to rest her cheek against his chest, her slender, slightly shorter frame fitting just nicely against his lean body, her head dropping gently to rest on his shoulder, and he lifted his chin slightly to rest it lightly atop her head …. Pressing a soft kiss into the downy softness of her lemon scented hair.

Her arms had wound more tightly around his waist ….

And both had let out contented sighs ….

It had also seemed like the most natural thing in the world to both of them when he had cupped the back of her head with one hand and used the other hand to tilt her chin back slightly so that he could claim her lips with his own ….

A most delicious and sensual kiss that had seemed to last eternally ….

And had left them both breathless and flushed and wanting more ….

"Some day soon …. you are really going to have to show me how to do this properly …." She had sighed softly against his lips as he had bent to claim them once more, and Stringfellow Hawke had known instinctively that she was talking about an entirely different kind of 'dancing' ….

"Hey, String …. Don't you think we should be thinking about turning this little lady around …. Hello? Earth to Hawke …. _**Hey,**_ _**dream boat! Beautiful dreamer …. Wake unto me. Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee …. Sounds of the rude world heard in the day, Lull'd by the moonlight have all passed away!**_ "

Dominic Santini's rough baritone voice suddenly burst into his ear, via his helmet and the volume and abruptness of it startled Hawke out of his reverie, making him jump in his seat, and the movement caused him, involuntarily, to slightly increase the pressure of his fingers on the joystick, causing Airwolf to suddenly bank sharply to the left ….

"Oh you _**are **_still there …. Thought maybe you bailed out …." Dominic grumbled. "Ya know I could swear there's something wrong with the radio …." He banged the side of his helmet with a flat palm. "Got kind of a …. screechin' noise banging away in my ear for the last half an hour …. Like an Irish Banshee howlin' …. Or maybe a lesser spotted Stringfellow Hawke warbling!"

Having quickly corrected Airwolf's course, Hawke closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"You didn't care for the in-flight entertainment?" He drawled sarcastically.

"Stick with the cello kid …. You can't carry a tune in a bucket …." Dominic laughed then.

"Is something wrong back there?"

"No …. Was just looking at the fuel gauge, is all, and thought maybe you should know that we will soon be at the point of no return …."

"I _**know**_ that …." Hawke growled, although he was aware that he had maybe taken his eye off the ball …. Just for a moment ….

And he pulled up on the control stick, executing a perfect Immelmann turn, then straightened Airwolf up and headed back toward the US coast.

"Gee …. I wish you would _**warn**_ a guy when you do something like that …." Santini grouched from the rear compartment. "Anyway, glad to have you back with us though …. The rest of us were down here at angels 20 while you were up there on cloud nine, torturing what used to be a very pretty song way back when …. and making cow eyes at some dame whose name you won't even tell me …."

Hawke closed his eyes and let out another deep sigh.

So Dominic was on _**that**_ jag again ….

The younger man knew that he would get no peace with Dominic in this kind of mood ….

At first he had kept his friendship with Alex to himself ….

He hadn't wanted to get anyone's hopes up …. Including his own …..

But it had been almost two months now ….

And even if he said so himself ….

Things were progressing nicely ….

_**Very nicely indeed …. **_

_**If last night was anything to go by ….**_

He couldn't see any harm in telling Dominic her name ….

Although he suspected that the older man would not just be satisfied with that.

"Ok, Dom …. You win …." He sighed softly. "Her name is …. Alex …."

"Alex …."

"Alexandra Beecham …."

"And is this the same lady that has had you all dewy eyed and dopey for the last couple of months? I know I told you to have fun, but you've been mooning around like a love struck teenager …. Gazing off into the distance, day dreamin' …. Sighing …. Grinning like an idiot …. Oh, it's enough to make a guy sick …. Someone fetch me a bucket …. Pleeeeeeeeseeeee!"

Hawke remained stubbornly silent.

"So, where did you meet her? And why the hell haven't you invited me to dinner so _**I**_ can meet her?"

Again Hawke remained tipped lipped.

"Ah, c'mon String …. Give …."

"We're taking things pretty slowly, Dom …."

"Really? Could have fooled me, if you'd fallen any faster you'd have broken the sound barrier! This goes back to the day you went to the school with Rutherford …. I'm not that dumb, String …. I knew something was going on when you got back …." Santini laughed then. "Am I right or am I right?"

"Yeah, Dom …." Hawke conceded on a soft sigh. "You don't miss a thing, do you."

"So?"

"She's a teacher …. A colleague of Bob Rutherford's wife, Sophie …. And yes, I met her that day …."

"Is she pretty?"

"Dom …."

"Ok, ok …. We'll take that as a given …. We know there's nothing wrong with your eyesight …. And you have …. reasonable taste …."

"Dom …." There was a warning in Hawke's voice now, not to push him too far.

"Is she younger than you …. Older than you …. Same age maybe …." Santini ploughed on regardless.

"She's younger than me, Dom …. She'll be twenty three in a couple of weeks' time …. but she's no child …." There was an edge to his voice now almost as though he expected Santini to jump in with some disapproving comment about her being jail bait, or his being a cradle snatcher ….

However, for once in his life, Dominic Santini remained silent.

"She teaches Math and Computer Sciences …. She likes fine art and classical music, Barry Manilow love songs, a Swedish group called ABBA and an English Rock group called Queen …. Dickens …. Byron and William Blake poetry …. Sentimental old black and white movies …. sweet white wine, cheeseburgers with ketchup …. Walking on the beach …. Slow dances …. And sunsets …. She's a brown eyed brunette, about five feet five inches tall …. And she's English …. Anything else you want to know, like her vital statistics?"

"Geez …. No need to be like _**that**_ …. I'm just happy for you …. And curious …. That's all …." Dominic Santini sighed into his ear now. "Does she make you happy?"

"What do you think, Dom?"

"I think you …. You've been like the proverbial dog with two tails, is what I think …." Santini chuckled then. "What about her family?" Hawke could hear the unasked question in Santini's voice ….

_**What do they think of her seeing a guy your age?**_

"She has no family, Dom …."

"Well she does now …."

"Dom …. I appreciate the thought …. And I'm sure Alex would too …. But I already told you, we're not rushing into anything …. We're both just taking each day as it comes and enjoying each other's company …."

"Ok …. Well, I say, anyone who can put a smile on your face, like the one you've had for the past few weeks, is ok by me …." Santini chuckled again. "I'd still like to meet her though …."

"You will, Dom …. In time …. I promise …."

"Ok, I'll take your word for it …. Just remember I ain't getting any younger …."

"I promised, didn't I?"

Both men grew silent then, each lost in their own thoughts. However, it was Dominic Santini who eventually broke the silence.

"Hey, String …. Did I tell you I was going up to Seattle to that Air Race Show I was talking about last week …."

"No .…" Hawke replied succinctly.

"Oh …. Well, I am." Santini advised.

"When?"

"Weekend after next …. Gonna fly up on the Friday afternoon …. You don't mind holding the fort for a while, do you?"

"No Dom …."

Indeed, that fitted in rather well with the plan that was beginning to form in Hawke's mind.

Alex would be having her birthday that Saturday, May 19th, and he had almost made up his mind to invite her up to the cabin.

It would be the first time that they had spent any significant time alone together ….

And with Dom away at the Air Race Show, and a discreet word with Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, Hawke could almost guarantee that they would have complete privacy ….

No chance any uninvited guests would just drop in ….

After Alex's reaction to his kisses last night he was left with no doubt that they were both ready to move their relationship up a level ….

Up until last night, he had always held back just a little ….

Not wanting to rush her before she was ready …. Not wanting to rush headlong into anything too serious too quickly himself ... Memories of Gabrielle still lingering in the back of his mind …. Making him hesitate ….

And aware that Alex was still so young …. So innocent ….

However, last night, locked in his arms, Alex had returned his kisses so ardently, responded to his caresses so passionately, it had taken all his strength and willpower to say goodnight to her and drive away ….

Hers had most definitely _**not**_ been the reactions of a child ….

Kissing her deeply on the lips one last time, as they had said goodnight on her front door step, even in the moonlight, he had clearly been able to see in her eyes what she had obviously been reluctant to put into words ….

_**Love ….**_

She hadn't been trying to hide it or deny it ….

She just hadn't wanted to give the word voice ….

Probably afraid that it would somehow spoil things between them ….

Hawke knew what that felt like ….

It was one of the reasons why he too had kept silent ….

Not wanting to scare her away ….

Inviting her up to the cabin was a significant step.

It would mean that he would have to talk about himself …. His family …. Open up to her about things that were intensely private ….

And painful ….

_**How could he not? **_

She would see the artwork …. The photo's of Dom and St John …. His parents …. And she would, quite understandably, have questions ….

Until now he had been reluctant to let her that deeply into his personal life.

So far, they had spent most of their time in neutral locations like restaurants or drive in movie lots …. Or, more recently, at her pleasant beach house.

He had always been an intensely private and reserved man.

He had wanted to be absolutely sure that she wanted the same things from their relationship as he did …. The same kind of intimacy that he longed for ….

And after last night ….

He no longer had any doubts ….

It was what they both wanted …. And now they were both ready …..

"Hey, did you nod off again up there …."

"No, Dom …. Just thinking …."

"Planning to do something special for your young lady's birthday, I'll bet …."

"Nothing gets by you, does it, Dom …."

"Special …. _**And**_ romantic …."

"Yeah …." Hawke sighed deeply. "That's the idea …. Now do you think we could finish this flight without an in depth analysis of my love life?" He drawled. "I know it's probably a bit late in the day to be asking …. But how do you feel about being back there? With all that stuff to play with …. I know it was a bit overwhelming in the beginning … Especially with me barking in your ear ….."

"Well, I can't deny that I'd much rather be up there where you are …. But …. I'm finding my way around now …. Why? You think I'm not good enough …"

"Dom …." Hawke cut in. "Enough already …. Please let's _**not**_ go down _**that**_ road again …." He sighed deeply. "I _**don't**_ think you are too old …. I _**don't**_ think you are 'past it'. And I certainly _**don't**_ want another Santini knuckle sandwich for lunch …. I'm still paying the orthodontist to fix the teeth you rattled with that last punch. Once and for all, the only one who has a problem with your age is _**you**_ …. And next time you get your blood up and want to accuse me of making you _**feel**_ old, just remember who I turned to …. to help me with this baby …. Who I trusted most in the word to watch my back …. _**We're a team …. **_You're doing great …. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't feeling out of your depth …. I happen to think it's terrific the way you've picked things up …."

"Oh …."

"When I first saw all those lights and buttons, I thought someone had Shanghaied me and I'd woken up on Broadway …. Did I ever thank you for not complaining when I lost patience …. And I _**know **_I did …."

"Hey, steady kid …. Two compliments in five minutes …." Santini chuckled. "Well, we were in kind of a sticky spot …. You needed the weapons and I was sitting here with my thumb up my ass ….." Dom chuckled then. "You were a big help …. How in the hell did you manage to learn all this stuff, as well as all the flight controls and the computer stuff?"

"I had a very good teacher …."

Dominic Santini could not see it, positioned as he was behind Stringfellow Hawke's seat, but a soft smile curled at Hawke's lips as he thought about Alex once more.

Strange how quickly Alex had come to replace Tasha in his memory ….

"Let's take this baby home …. Turbos …."

"Turbos." Dom confirmed hitting the required control and Airwolf smoothly increased speed.

"Hey String …."

"Yeah, Dom?"

"I'm happy you're happy …."

Again Hawke found himself smiling.

_**Happy just didn't describe it ….**_

_**No words could ….**_

But as words went, …. it would do for now ….

"I'm happy you're happy, I'm happy …." He grinned then and heard Santini's exasperated sigh. "But it doesn't matter how much you plead …. No matter how much you beg me …. I can't …. I _**won't**_ marry you …."

"_**What?**_ Clown …." But Dominic Santini was laughing now too, and it felt so good to both men. "Oh I see …. All those empty promises …. Throwing me over for a younger model …. And all those hungry mouths to feed …." Santini lamented.

"If any of those hungry mouths can be traced back to me that would be one helluva miracle …." Hawke drawled, entering the spirit of the thing.

Santini roared with laughter.

"How could you …. When I've given you the best years of my life …."

"You'll know the answer to _**that**_ question when you meet _**my**_ lady, Dom …." Hawke chuckled, trying to pull himself together, unable to wipe away the tears of laughter that were rolling unchecked down his face because of the helmet he was wearing ….

Dominic Santini did not say anything, but he was thinking to himself that he already liked this Alexandra Beecham ….

She had worked a miracle on his young friend ….

Restoring him to health ….

And happiness ….

And given the older man back the boy he had discovered through his old friend Steven Hawke ….

The shining, smiling youth he had come to love as a son ….

The often sickly boy who had, nonetheless, feared nothing and no-one and who had possessed a quick wit and a wicked sense of humour …. Possessing a strength and determination that was beyond his years …. Even back then ….

It was so good to have him back after all these years ….

This was the Hawke that Santini remembered ….

Hawke as a mischievous child …. Always into everything, inquisitive and ebullient and so full of life ….

Dominic Santini could not wait to meet Alexandra Beecham …. For he knew that he had a lot to thank her for ….

He could not believe that a scant few weeks before he had feared for his young friend's sanity ….

Watching the guilt and the grief eat away at him ….

The transformation was indeed miraculous ….

Santini had thought this happy-go-lucky, carefree, witty young man lost to him forever ….

_**Please God … **_

_**Long may it last**_ ….

_**Let this one work out ….**_

_**Because if anything happens to this girl ….**_

He didn't dare think about it ….

Out of the corner of his eye he suddenly spotted a blue light flashing insistently on his right, quickly accompanied by an irritating beeping sound, much like a pager going off.

"Uh oh …. I wonder who that could be …." Dominic reached up, his finger hovering over a switch on the upper left of another console, close to the switch marked **Strike Missiles,** which he had learned activated the radio descrambler.

"It's a fair bet it's the guy who's footing the bill …."

"Are you interested in a cheery word from our sponsor?"

"Could be he has something important to tell us …. Like there's a sale on at Bloomingdales and he needs us to go pick up his nice new shiny white boots …."

This made Santini splutter out loud.

"Better not keep him waiting any more …." Hawke chuckled, and waited for Dominic to flip the switch. "Hello Michael …. And what can we do you for you today?"

"Hawke? What the hell is that racket? I can hardly hear you …."

The 'racket' was Dominic Santini trying his damnedest not to snigger, still tickled by Hawke's last remark.

"Oh? What racket is that, Michael?" Hawke enquired innocently, turning slightly in his seat to scowl at Dominic Santini …. rolling his eyes in exasperation at the older man in the back seat who was turning blue in an effort not to laugh out loud.

"_**That**_! Hissing noise …." Archangel's irritation grew.

"Oh …. Can't hear it at this end …. Must be something wrong with the radio …."

However, just at that moment, Santini lost his battle and let out a loud shout of laughter ….

"Dammit …. You trying to deafen me!" Archangel howled. "What the devil _**is**_ it …."

"Static?" Hawke suggested innocently.

"Static my eye …."

"Ok …. it's Dom …. Very funny man, Dominic Santini …. He just loves to laugh at his own jokes …. He was just running a few by me …. He's thinking of auditioning to be a stand up comedian …." Hawke deadpanned.

"My God, Hawke …. What the hell happened to you? Did you get a sense of humour transplant? Did the two of you suddenly turn into Laurel and Hardy?"

"Abbott and Costello …." This from Dominic Santini, who was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face, and if he wasn't careful he was going to need a bathroom real soon ….

"If you'd brought Tet along you could pass for the Marx Brothers!"

Michael Coldsmith Briggs III winced as raucous laughter from both men burst from the radio.

Dominic Santini was incorrigible, but Hawke ….

He had always been the most cold hearted, up tight, humourless individual Archangel had ever had the misfortune to meet ….

He didn't know if he approved of this new side to Stringfellow Hawke or not ….

He had noticed over the months they had been working together that the younger man's attitude toward him had changed ….

Softened ….

He wasn't quite so inclined to throw a punch first and ask questions later …

Even Marella had noticed that his whole demeanour had changed …. That he seemed to be happier …. Less inclined to be so moody and down right brooding ….

And Marella suspected that it had something to do with a woman ….

_**Female intuition …. **_She had tapped the side of her nose knowingly …..

Archangel wasn't so sure ….

It was still a little too soon after Gabrielle ….

He had been there …. He had seen what her death had done to Hawke ….

But, _**if**_ Marella was right ….

Maybe it was no bad thing ….

Hawke was certainly more approachable these days and that made working together and getting him to do the stuff that wasn't always on the level much easier ….

"A little laughter never killed anyone, Michael …." This, from Dominic Santini now, who was still struggling to regain his composure.

"Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right …. And here I am stuck in the middle with you two …. Maybe I'd better call back later …. When you've both come back down to earth …."

"Hey, settle down back there, Dom …. I think the man has something serious to say …."

"Indeed I do …. Something just about as serious as it can be …."

"Then you'd better get it off your chest, Michael …." Dominic Santini forced himself to calm down now. "Before it chokes you …."

"All right Dominic …." Archangel let out a deep sigh.

What was it with these two lately ….

Their sense of humour and fun was infectious ….

"Once upon a time, there was a man called Stringfellow Hawke, who after doing a wonderful thing for his country, by repatriating something that some nasty man from a very hot country decided he wanted …. Took that something that didn't belong to him and refused to give it back unless he got his own way …. but instead of getting mad, the very important man in the oval office, in the big white house, in the big city thousands of miles away, decided to let Hawke keep this precious thing, so long as he agreed to use it from time to time, to help the very important man get what he needed to keep him in the oval office, in the big white house, in the big city thousands of miles away …. Therefore saving his beloved country from a fate worse than death …. Weekly …."

Archangel winced again as more raucous laughter burst from the radio.

"I think I heard this story before, String ….

"Does it have a happy ending, Dom?"

"Oh pleeeeeseee, _**children**_ …." Archangel sighed, but found to his surprise that he was grinning like a fool. "I think maybe the two of you need a vacation …. There's a particularly good insane asylum I could recommend …."

Hawke and Santini had already dissolved into laughter once more and there would be no getting through to them now, so Archangel decided to cut his loses.

"I called to let you know that I will be taking some leave for a couple of weeks…. On the advice of my doctor …. Seems my blood pressure is through the roof, due to my associating with certain …. Excitable types …."

"Do he mean us?

"I think he do …."

More sniggers wafted over the airwaves ….

"He most certainly does …" Archangel sighed. "I just thought, before I put myself on a plane to Barbados …."

"Oooooh"

"I thought that I should warn you that D G Bogard finally managed to work his way out of that lowly Air Force Colonel's strangle hold, so …. whilst I am away …."

"Terrific …."

The amusement had gone from Hawke's voice now, and he was suddenly as sober as a judge.

"More cat and mouse …. Hide and seek …." He intoned.

"Maybe …. Maybe not …. He didn't exactly win any friends and influence people with his antics …. his credibility certainly took a knock .… but if I were you gentlemen, I'd keep your pretty heads down and don't get into any trouble you can't get out of by yourselves …"

"Gee Michael, thanks for the advice …."

"You're welcome Dominic …. Actually, it might be better if you didn't get into _**any**_ kind of trouble at all …. Archangel out …."

"Why does he always have to do that?"

"What?"

"Pee on our parade like that?"

"He probably thought he was doing us a favour, Dom …. Let's just hope Bogard doesn't manage to get control of another satellite, because there aren't too many places around here we can hide this baby …."

"He don't exactly like you …. That D G Bogard …."

"I didn't much care for him either …. We handled him before …. Maybe he'll think twice about trying again …."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and my hair will be back to its thick, lustrous chestnut brown instead of this thinning grey stuff that wouldn't keep a mouse's ass warm at night …."

"Well …. At least we know what to look out for …." Hawke let out a deep sigh then. "We'd better get the Lady safely tucked away …. Don't want to take any unnecessary risks …."

"You think she'll be safe at the Lair?"

"Archangel didn't say for sure that she wouldn't be …. And if we don't take her up for a while, there won't be any chance of anyone being able to track us …."

"So we all get to go on vacation …."

"Yeah …. Well, let's just hope it's not a permanent arrangement …."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four.

_**Somewhere Over California ….**_

"Oh …. Wow …." Alexandra Beecham let out a most unladylike whistle through her teeth as she peered out of the cockpit window at the view laid out before her. The panoramic view through the Hughes helicopter's front window was incredible, a mixture of mountains and woodland, and vast, cloudless blue sky, and in the distance, the glint of sunlight on water.

Stringfellow Hawke was silently pleased with his companion's reaction to the scenery.

It never failed to move him whenever he came home.

Eagle Lake.

He was also pleased to see that she seemed more relaxed now that they were actually in the air ….

Just for a moment, back at the hangar, he had seen the hesitation in her eyes as he had pointed out the Hughes that they would be using to fly up to the cabin ….

Had actually seen her pale for a moment, and had been curious by her reaction ….

She was a flyer herself ….

A short trip up to the lake in the Hughes should be a piece of cake for her …. And he suddenly could not help wondering if she had lost her nerve ….

But when he had asked her to join him up at the lake for the weekend, Alex had jumped at the chance to be with him. No hint of concern or trepidation at the thought of having to fly up there with him.

Her reaction at the hangar had been ….

Perplexing ….

She had been sending out mixed signals ….

Which just wasn't like her.

Alex was one of the least complicated women that he had ever met.

Easy to work out.

Usually what you saw was what you got. She smiled when she was happy, she frowned when she was worried, she scowled when she was angry and she wept when she was sad ….

She had a very pretty and a very expressive face, and he had no trouble reading her mood.

And he found it refreshing that her moods didn't change like the weather.

Unlike his own, of course ….

However, she had recovered quickly and had accepted his help getting into the cockpit and putting on the earphones.

Hawke had mulled over his decision to ask Alexander to join him up at the cabin for the weekend, for a few days, before he had finally felt comfortable about putting it to her.

Dominic had finalised his arrangements to fly to Seattle to the Air Race Show and Hawke had realised that there would never be a better time.

He had arrived at Alex's beach house for their dinner date last Friday evening, and had been concerned when she had not answered the door.

The house was all quiet, but when he tried the front door it was not locked.

He had let himself in, calling her name and had looked around the house for her but found that the place was empty ….

He had eventually spotted her down on the beach, sitting very still, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them tightly, hugging them into her chest, her head bowed, forehead resting on her knees.

He had approached her very cautiously, not wanting to scare her, afraid that she was sick ….

In pain ….

But as he got nearer he had realised that she was weeping.

He had sat down beside her and she had instantly thrown herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably as she spluttered out the cause for her grief ….

Another child in her class had died …. Had killed herself …. Unable to get over the death of her twin brother …. The boy who had been stabbed in the leg on the day that Hawke and Alex had met again. She had locked herself in the bathroom and cut her wrists ….

Alex had clung to him and sobbed her heart out until the sun had gone down and then he had helped her inside, as the night grew chill from a stiff sea breeze and they had sat close beside each other on the couch and he had wrapped her in a warm blanket and held her tightly again until she had finally calmed down and had fallen asleep in his arms.

He had stayed with her, holding her and reassuring her when she woke up sobbing in the middle of the night, and then, in the morning, when she had suddenly grown shy and embarrassed at her display of grief, he had gathered her into his arms once more, kissed her until she was breathless and told her that there was nowhere else in the world that he would rather be than with her.

Over breakfast, he had asked her if she would like to go up to the cabin the following weekend, and she had immediately seemed to realise that it was quite a serious step for him and she had agreed in a soft voice, pressing a sweet kiss to his rough, unshaved cheek.

Later that week he had accompanied her to the young girl's funeral, supporting her as she tried to make some sense out of what had happened. She had looked pale and tired but had passed it off as not being able to sleep properly and a bad headache.

The Rutherford's had both been there too and they had greeted Hawke with friendly hugs and the four of them had stood together in silent sorrow as the plain white coffin had been wheeled into the chapel and then out to the cemetery where it was slowly lowered into the grave.

Hawke hadn't seen Alex since he had taken her home after the funeral, until he had arrived to pick her up in the Santini Air jeep late this afternoon.

After Dominic Santini had finally left the hangar, Hawke had finished up on the job he was doing on the brakes of a vintage Stearman aeroplane and then after washing up and changing into casual blue jeans and a plain white shirt, he had put on his shades, hopped into the Santini Air jeep and headed off to collect Alex.

She had been ready and waiting for him, looking much better than the last time he had seen her, he quickly noted, radiant in jeans and T shirt, waterproof jacket slung casually over the crook of her arm and on her feet sturdy hiking boots, her hair tied loosely in the nape of her neck ….

A small overnight bag and bags of groceries at her feet, as she had greeted him with a hug and had allowed him to help her into the jeep.

"Dear God, what do you have in here …." He had grunted as he had hauled the bags of groceries into the back of the jeep with her overnight bag. "The kitchen sink? We're only going to be there for a couple of days …." He had grumbled.

"We have to eat, don't we?" She had given him a big cheesy grin and he had not been able to stop himself from chuckling.

"I do have supplies …. And there's plenty of trout in the lake …."

"So you're not a Vegan then …. Not completely Vegetarian?"

"No …. I eat eggs and cheese, and drink milk ….and I eat fish …. Which I catch in the lake …. Nothing fresher …."

"Oh no …. I couldn't …. Not if it was still warm …." She grimaced.

"Fish are cold blooded, sweetheart …." He had grinned then. "Fancy a teacher not knowing that …."

"You know what I mean …."

A shudder had run down her whole body then.

"I couldn't eat it, not when it had only been …." She had made a wiggling motion with her hand, still grimacing. "…. swimming ... in the lake five minutes before …."

Her reaction had reminded him of Gabrielle, who had also not been unable to get her head around the fact that whilst she could enjoy tucking into a juicy steak, he could kill, gut and cook the beautiful creature he had just pulled out of the lake ….

Had even ordered him to throw one back when they had gone fishing on the lake one day ….

He had grown serious then.

Suddenly resenting the memory ….

Gabrielle's intrusion ….

Alexandra had picked up on his sudden mood swing and turned to him with a frown as he started up the jeep.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah …." He had forced a smile then, not wanting to worry her. "So what's in the bags?"

"Oh …. underwear …. Pantyhose …. Sneakers …." Hawke had turned to regard her with a pained expression, caught out once again by her whacky sense of humour.

"Do you intend to serve them with gravy, or hollandaise?" He had drawled and she had thrown back her head and laughed. "I meant the grocery bags …."

"All sorts …. After all, one of us is rather harder to please in the culinary department than the other …."

"Do you mean me?"

"Well …. If the shoe fits …."

"I don't eat meat, but that doesn't mean that I object to other people eating it, if that's what they like …. So long as they don't expect me to cook it …."

"Oh good …. Because I got steak and bacon, ham, and chicken …."She had beamed at him then. "Oh and cottage cheese and bean sprouts and rice and Tofu …. for you …."

"Gee, thanks …." He had scowled. "Tofu?" He had grimaced and she had laughed again.

"Got to make sure you get plenty of protein …. I found some wonderful granary bread and some Brie and a bunch of exotic fruits and nuts …. And I didn't forget the staples, eggs, coffee, onions, carrots, greens, potatoes, salad fixings, milk and sugar and butter …."

"Sounds like you have it all under control …."

"You never did tell me why you stopped eating meat …." She had prompted then, her hair flying wildly around her face as they sped back toward Van Nuys Airport. "Come to think of it …. Actually you never said if you _**ever**_ ate meat at all …."

"Oh yeah …. When I was a kid …."

"So why did you stop? Were you protesting over the treatment of animals, was it politically motivated, did you do it to annoy your parents …. or was it just personal preference …."

"Food allergies."

"Food allergies …. Oh, I get it …. You mean like some people get hives if they're allergic to cats or dogs, or can't breathe if they're allergic to peanuts or seafood, or bee stings?" He had nodded.

"Not quite _**that**_ drastic, more of an intolerance, but yeah …."

"Oh …."

"Yeah …. You see, I was a real sickly child …."

"No …." She had eyed him up and down hungrily and had arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I'm serious …." He had added. "St John, my older brother, well he grew like a weed and there was I, this puny little weakling in comparison …. This weedy little guy that didn't seem to grow an inch year on year …."

He had explained, having to raise his voice slightly over the noise of traffic and the air stream that was flowing over the top of the open topped jeep and which was also plastering her hair against her cheek and lips as she had regarded him with interest.

"I always had a sniffle or a stomach upset or some low grade throat or ear infection …. and my Mom was getting really worried that I had something seriously wrong. The doctors told her not to worry, that I would grow up and grow out of whatever it was, but still, year after year I got weaker and punier and sicker …."

"That's hard to believe …. Looking at you now …."

"Thanks …."He had grinned then.

"Anyway, one summer I spent most of the school vacation in bed with one thing or another and my Mom, in utter frustration turned to an old family friend …. An old lady who had been around kids all her life and knew everything there was to know …. And my Mom told her what was happening. The old gal asked my Mom if she thought it might be 'bad' food …. Well …. Mom got all het up and bristly and said she only fed her family the best of everything …. And then the old lady told Mom that she meant food that had stuff in it that didn't agree with me, chemicals …. additives, stuff like that …. Things that might even be poisoning me …. and advised that my Mom stop feeding me certain types of foods for a while, until we found out what it was that was making me sick." He had explained patiently.

"Ah …. Poor baby …."

"Mmmm …. I remember spending months not being able to eat bread and crackers and pastries and pies, cake or cookies because they thought I might have a reaction to wheat or flour …. Gluten …. And St John threatening to kill me every other hour, because he couldn't have those things either, because Mom thought it wasn't fair that only one of us should go without ..."

He had grinned then at the memory of his older brother's fury over being denied all the things he had loved to eat, and which most definitely were _**not**_ poisoning _**him**_.

"…. then I couldn't eat anything with dairy in it, so no milk, no yoghurt, no cheese, no butter, she even stopped giving us anything with sugar in it …. No candy, no soda, no ice cream …."

And St John had almost killed him because he had had a particularly sweet tooth …. And was denied all his favourite goodies too ….

On pain of death ….

Hawke had recalled that their father had literally had to drag the kicking, biting and scratching St John off of his younger brother and carry him away, still kicking and screaming, flung over his shoulder ….

Firstly, St John had later recounted …. to give him a good paddling on the backside, and then to give him a good talking too ….

About brotherly love and tolerance and having to accept that he couldn't always have his own way in this world ….

And about patience ….

That it wouldn't go on forever ….

And about conscience ….

How would he feel if String ate something because he had seen his brother eat it …. And suddenly got very sick and died ….

_**Way to go Dad ….**_

"But I just kept getting sicker and thinner …. Until in utter despair Mom stopped buying meat, told us we were all going to be giving it up for Lent or something …. and we all ate fish for a month .… That's how I got to really love going fishing with my Dad and St John …." Their very wise father having realised that the boys needed an interest in common, so that they could begin building bridges ….

"From the shore, or from the row boat out on the lake …. I was good at it too …. and presto …. I gained eight pounds in a month and got stronger, and had more energy, and stopped throwing up …. Finally managed to beat St John in a fist fight by knocking him on his ass …." The smile on his face had spoken volumes about how much the young Hawke had enjoyed that brief moment of victory. "And the moral of the story is, I've never eaten meat since …."

"Wow …." Alex was amazed. It was probably the longest conversation they had ever had about _**him**_ ….

He had always been so reserved and reluctant to talk about himself before.

"So how do you know you are still allergic …. That you didn't just grow out of it?"

"I guess I don't …. But I know I've lost the taste for meat after all these years. In Vietnam …. When all the other guys were lusting after hamburger or steak or chops, I was the only one who didn't …. They all thought that I was some radical hippie type …."

"No …. Really?" She had teased.

"Actually, in the mess hall, even the smell of cooked meat made me …. nauseous …." He had confessed, then had noticed the frown she was wearing as she had obviously realised that her choice of menu might actually send her date fleeing from the house in disgust.

"But I'm really not so bad these days …." He had assured her quickly. "Thanks to Dom .… Dominic Santini …. The guy I work with. My Dad's oldest buddy, from the war …." He had explained. "He brings me meat from time to time, then invites himself to dinner and cooks it and feeds himself and Tet …. My dog …. Most of it. I guess I've just gotten used to it …." She had smiled with relief then.

"They do say that exposure over time, to the thing that makes you sick, can help to lessen the reaction …." She had added sagely. "Helps to build up an immunity …."

They had grown quiet then, by necessity as the speed with which they were travelling along the highway made the open jeep noisy and conversation impossible.

When they had reached the hangar, Hawke had helped her to carry the food and her overnight bag and stow them into the Hughes that they would be using, as Dominic had taken the Bell Jet Ranger, and they had started out on their flight to the cabin.

She had been quiet at the beginning of the flight, sitting rigidly in her seat although when he had asked her if she was feeling ok she had nodded and smiled brightly at him.

However, as the flight had progressed and they had left the city behind them, he noticed that she was beginning to relax, enjoying the scenery. Whatever it was, she was obviously getting over it, and he had begun to relax too.

"Oh, String …. It's beautiful …."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet …." He chuckled now. "But I'm glad you approve."

"You spend all your spare time up here?"

"As much of it as I can …. I find it very therapeutic …."

"But its so …. Remote …."

"That's the point …. No distractions …. Up here I can relax completely."

"Oh …."

She grew silent again for a little while, engrossed in the beauty of nature below them, and then very softly, over his earphones, he could make out her humming very softly, a tune that was vaguely familiar.

"What's that?"

"Mm?"

"That tune?"

"Oh, just something from a movie I saw a while ago …."

"Sing it out …." She grew embarrassed then. "Alex you have a lovely voice …. Sing it out …."

"I can't …."

"Why not?

"Well …. It'soppy …. a corny love song …."

"So …. I've been moved to hum a love song or two myself recently …." He grinned. "According to my only critic …. The tin eared Dominic Santini, the guy who mangles Italian opera …. I can't carry a tune in a bucket …."

She giggled.

"Go on, sing it out …."

"Well, ok ….. '_**love lifts us up where we belong, where the eagles cry on a mountain high …. Love lifts us up where we belong, far from the world we know, up where the clear winds blow ….**_'" She sang in perfect tune.

Hawke nodded his approval, thinking how very apt her choice of song was.

"Nice …."

"Its from that movie 'An Officer And A Gentleman' …." She told him. "I guess that's you, Hawke. An officer and a gentleman …."

"It's the code I have tried to live by, ma'am …." He intoned solemnly, mimicking tugging his forelock.

"Bugger …. " She cursed and he laughed out loud, used to her very English way of swearing. "Pity that … I was rather hoping to encounter a Casanova type on this trip …."

"Hold that thought …." Hawke growled in a low, sexy voice and they smiled at each other. "It can be arranged …. Say …." He decided to change the subject when he noticed the wicked twinkle in her eyes. "Would you like to take her for a minute?" He indicated to the controls and was suddenly taken aback by the look of horror that crossed her face.

"Alex?"

"Better not …. I'm a bit rusty …."

"It's like riding a bike …." He grinned. "You never forget …. And I'm here …. Go on …." He coaxed.

"No …. Thanks …. Really …." When he continued to frown at her, Alex knew that she had to offer him some kind of explanation. "I don't have a licence anymore, String …. I let it lapse …."

"Well we can soon remedy that …. it won't take long to get you back up to speed. Why not drop in on Dom and me, either one of us could take you up …. It is what we do for a living, after all …. We'll soon have you ready to get checked out .… I know Dom wouldn't mind, if you'd rather not go up with me …."

"No .… thanks, it's a nice offer, but …."

"Ok …. I'm not trying to push you into something you don't want to do …. It just seems such a pity that a pilot with your skills should just let them go to waste like that …."

"I don't need a licence anymore, String. I don't need it for my work anymore. What does a teacher need with a pilot's licence?" She reminded him.

"Flying for pleasure?" He teased. "It's the only way to get up to the cabin …."

"Then I'll just have to wait to be chauffeured …. If you ever ask me again, that is …."

"Don't you miss it? Not just a little bit?"

She shook her head vigorously and Hawke began to sense that there was more to this than met the eye.

"Did you lose your nerve?" He asked her gently, wanting to understand. He could not comprehend ever _**not**_ wanting to fly, even after all the close shaves he had had over the years.

He knew that she had had a few close shaves herself ….

Maybe she had just had one too many ….

"I mean, if that's what it is …. A few trips up to get your confidence back …. A few refresher lessons with the right instructor …."

"No …. It's nothing like that, String …." She sighed impatiently, looking uncomfortable and hesitant, like she was holding something back and trying to debate with herself whether to tell him or not.

"It's ok, Alex …." Hawke assured, still frowning, puzzled by her sudden reticence. "You don't have to tell me …."

"No …. It's ok String …." She let out a long, deep sigh of resignation then, having obviously made her decision, and smiled weakly at him. "No medical board would ever pass me as fit to fly …." She confided reluctantly.

"What?"

"I had a brain injury, String …. Remember?"

"Oh …. Yeah …."

Again she grew quiet and uncomfortable, gazing with unseeing eyes out of the front window and Hawke did not know what to make of her mood.

"I'm so sorry, Alex, I never gave it a thought …." Hawke could have kicked himself for his insensitivity.

"It doesn't matter …." She smiled forgivingly at him then. "Besides, if I were at the controls I wouldn't get the full benefit of this wonderful scenery, would I?" She laughed softly then. "And you went to so much trouble to arrange it all for me …. Snow on the mountains …. No clouds in the sky …. Even an eagle soaring up there on a thermal …." She pointed to where an eagle glided effortlessly across the sky and grinned at him.

"You still should have said something …."

"And spoil my birthday surprise?"

"Birthday? You have a birthday coming up?" He went along with her then, not wanting to dwell on his faux pas.

"You know I do …. I'm two years old tomorrow …." She grinned toothily at him and he had to admit that she was the most sexy and alluring looking two year old he had ever clapped eyes on.

"I hope you're just a little bit older than that, my dear …. else what I have in mind could just put me in jail …."

A very pretty blush began to creep up her cheeks then and Hawke could not help chuckling.

"Promises, promises …." She spoke in a low, sexy voice.

"Just you wait …. You'll pay for that …." He growled back.

"More promises …. Well, this could turn out to be a very interesting trip …." She giggled then at the expression on his face.

"I never make a promise unless I can keep it …." He warned her in a deep, sexy voice.

"I'll have to remember that in the future …. Now, can't this crate go any faster?"

"Patience little one …. Patience …." He cooed.

"No Hawke …. You misunderstand …. I need the bathroom …."She laughed at the disappointed expression on his precious face. "How are you at changing diapers?"

"I guess if I don't step on it …. We're soon gonna find out …."

_**Somewhere over the Cascade Mountain, Washington State ….**_

_**Midnight ….**_

Six men, clad from head to foot in black, waited for the red light to change to green, giving them the go ahead to bail out of the small transport plane and parachute into the mountains, where they would quickly dispose of their parachutes and dark clothing and assume the appearance of hikers making their way back down off the mountains.

The group consisted of four Soviet Army officers, one doctor and one civilian.

All six had come from a secret military installation in Siberia and their orders, straight from Moscow read:

'_**Failure will not be tolerated …."**_

In charge of the group was one Uri Gregorovich, a Captain in the elite Special Operations Force and expert in covert operations. The other three military men were also from Special Ops, the four of them an experienced and well trained unit.

The doctor was an unknown quantity as yet, although he had followed orders and had kept the civilian quiet by administering a sedative regularly.

As for the civilian ….

His face was a road map of fine scar lines some of which were still bright pink and livid in places, but there were others too, obviously much older, in a much more advanced state of healing, and Gregorovich could not help wondering what kind of accident he had met with.

After seeing the civilian, he could better understand the orders he had received from General Sevchenko ….

Although never one to question orders ….. This time he had been puzzled and curious ….

At least the man was quiet, if nothing else. Doped practically to the point of catatonia until they had reached the air base, and then the doctor had given him an injection, something to counter act the sedative, but it had worked slowly and he had sat huddled in a darkened corner, eyes hooded and scanning his companions like some feral, distrusting animal waiting to pounce.

When they had reached the drop site over the mountains, he had co-operated quietly, allowing Gregorovich's second in command, Sargenko to assist him with his parachute, as they were going down together, buddying up ….

Sevchenko's orders again …. Making sure that the civilian did not have a chance to try to escape.

Gregorovich had agreed because as this was a night drop, it would also be safer.

Although Gregorovich doubted that the man actually had the strength to try to escape, much less the inclination ….

His spirit seemed to have been broken.

He seemed to need the doctor to tell him what needed to be done …. Even the simplest of tasks …. And Gregorivich suspected that in his drugged stupor, he would find it hard to function normally without Dimitriov to guide him.

That did not bode well for the mission.

The man needed to be able to function as this Stringfellow Hawke, or else he would be discovered and their mission would fail ...

That could not be allowed to happen.

Gregorovich had voiced his concerns to Dimitriov but the doctor had told him to be patient, and he would be able to see for himself that all was well, when they reached their destination ….

The final stage of his 'transformation' was scheduled to take place once they were on American soil ….

And soon that moment would be upon them.

If the doctor was wrong ….

Well, there was a bullet with his name on it, just waiting to be deployed ….

And, as for the civilian ….

In his present condition it seemed hardly likely that the Americans would get much out of him ….

But if they tried ….

They would all get a very nasty surprise.

However, there was still one small niggle in the back of the Special Ops Captain's brain.

In his original briefing, Dr Dimitriov had mentioned, only in passing, that the 'subject' as he had kept referring to him, could sometimes be prone to bouts of violent rage.

It could be controlled ….

But that was one of the main reasons why Dimitriov was here ….

Thus far, apart from a little show of defiance when they had hurried him into the waiting transport back in Siberia, Dimitriov had been able to control him with gently uttered reassurances, and medication.

Gregorovich had been relieved.

Wouldn't do for him to have had one of those violent rages on the way down.

Night drops were dangerous and unpredictable enough as it was.

The doctor, Dimitriov, had assured him that it was all under control …. Explaining that the cocktail of drugs they were having to keep him on sometimes clashed and he became aggressive and violent.

It was an unfortunate side effect of the treatments.

The procedure that had turned former US Air Force pilot Michael Shortland, kidnapped whilst on leave visiting his family in Oregon almost a year before, into Stringfellow Hawke …. Pilot of the formidable machine, Airwolf.

The Air Force officer's disappearance had been covered by the discovery of a body in a burned out car wreck on a lonely stretch of highway ….

So little of the body surviving that an identification had had to be made using the few scorched remains of his security pass, driver's licence and furlough papers, which by chance had been in the glove box, and therefore partially protected from the fireball that had engulfed the vehicle.

The true identity of the body within didn't matter ….

Probably some Imperialist drunk off the street ….

He certainly wouldn't be someone that anyone could miss …. The team who had carried out that mission would have made certain of it.

In over all charge of this happy band was General Vladimir Sevchenko. He had somehow managed to pursued Moscow that he was the only one who could oversee this mission and ensure its success and had gone on ahead, arriving in the United States a few days ago as part of the advanced party, via the East German route.

Just another group of jolly European tourist here to enjoy the wonders of the land of the free and the home of the brave ….

He and a handful of men who had joined him at various points along the journey were waiting for them to rendezvous in Los Angeles.

If all went well, and they located the vehicle that one of their comrades had arranged for them, they would be in Los Angeles in a few days. In the vehicle they would find US currency, clothes, maps and directions and any documents they might need to prove they were who they claimed to be ….

Their orders had also included a footnote about remaining inconspicuous.

There was no specific deadline for this mission to be carried out. It was imperative that they succeed, and if that meant that they had to bide their time and wait for the right moment, then so be it.

This was a covert mission ….

_**Under no circumstances must they draw attention to themselves …. **_

That order had been explicit, the under lying threat enough to make Gregorovich's blood run cold.

What was that Western expression?

Ah yes ….

_**Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey ….**_

Time was on their side.

They could watch and wait ….

And then, when the opportune moment arrived ….

They would achieve their objective and no-one would be any the wiser.

No-one would ever know that they had been there.

At least that was the plan ….


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

_**Saturday 19**__**th**__** May, 1984.**_

The first thing Stringfellow Hawke noticed when he awoke was that the storm that had accompanied their love making throughout the night was finally over.

The sun was up and the birds were singing cheerfully outside the window.

The second thing he noticed was that Alexandra Beecham had wound herself around his body, one leg thrown over his thigh, one arm dug under his shoulder somehow, snaking around and under his neck, her hand resting gently on the back of his head, relaxed fingers curling into his hair, the other hand resting lightly against his left shoulder blade …. Her hair, loose and unkempt and falling in a soft cloud around her face as she lay snuggled deep into his chest.

He was probably going to have a lovely nose shaped bruise slap bang in the middle of his chest later on.

He smiled contentedly.

He still could not believe how quickly their passion had spilled over ….

Their love making had been all that he had hoped for.

And more.

Each had given and received pleasure in equal measure, matching each other stroke for stroke …. Neither holding anything back ….

And then, breathless and sated they lay in each others arms, talking intermittently …. Until both had drifted off to sleep ….

Only to be woken a little while later by a need and a hunger that amazed them both.

Earlier in the evening they had shared a very pleasant dinner and opened a bottle of wine to go with it and Alex had studied his art collection. She had a keen eye and was extremely knowledgeable and he had enjoyed explaining to her about how and why his Grandfather had collected the paintings for his Grandmother.

Alex made a soft little whimpering noise now and shifted her position beside him slightly, and at the same moment, Tet let out a soft whiny yawn as he came up beside the bed to get his head patted.

"Morning boy …. Wild night, huh …." Hawke found himself grinning at the memory as he gently massaged the top of the dog's head. "I know …. I know …. I'm hungry too …. Just give me a minute and we'll go see if the trout are biting …." He cuffed the dog's ears affectionately once more and then tried very carefully to extricate himself from Alex's embrace without waking her.

She whimpered in protest, but finally rolled away from him, presenting him with her back ….

And a very pretty back it was too, he thought, grinning wickedly as he leaned over to plant a soft kiss at the very bottom of her spine, then rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

He emerged a few minutes later clad in jeans, pulling on a thick cream sweater over a blue checkered shirt and smiled contentedly to himself as he noted that Alex had somehow managed to curl herself up into a tight little ball in the middle of the bed, knees drawn up into her chest, head down, and curled into her knees, and again she let out a soft whimper.

Hawke wondered what she was dreaming about ….

Tet came bounding after him as he headed down the stairs, making straight for the kitchen where he filled the coffee pot and put it on the stove to heat, knowing that it would be ready to drink when he returned with the fish for their breakfast.

If the smell of freshly brewed coffee had not roused Alex by then, he would take great delight in waking her up ….

And he grinned devilishly to himself as he began to count the ways he would set about doing it ….

Roughly half an hour later, Hawke and Tet were making their way back toward the house, two medium sized trout hanging from a hook in Hawke's right hand, when suddenly the most blood curdling scream that Hawke had ever heard in his life split the stillness of the morning and brought him sprinting to the cabin, Tet hot on his heels barking wildly.

Hawke's first thought was that some unusual form of wildlife that Alex wasn't used to had somehow found its way indoors …. Scaring her witless ….

It didn't happen often, but then again, this wasn't downtown LA. There were bears and foxes and squirrels and skunks lurking out there, and sometimes they got curious ….

But as Hawke came flying into the cabin, there was no sign of some mean old grizzly lurching around the kitchen ….

Just more screaming ….

Coming from upstairs ….

Hawke dropped the fish on the floor and took the stairs two, then three at a time and came rushing into the bedroom, looking for the cause of the commotion.

What he found disturbed him more than the sight of any form of wildlife running amok in his home.

Alex was thrashing about wildly in the middle of the bed, her body dewed with perspiration, her face flushed, and contorted in pain and fear as she screamed and flayed with her arms, fighting off some unseen attacker.

Like a wild woman …. Suddenly possessed ….

Hawke crossed the room quickly and knelt down on the bed beside Alex, meaning to take her in his arms and to try to comfort her …. But she kept pushing him off, her screams piercing and agonised, her flailing arms connecting with his upper body, landing blows with clenched fists …. open palms ….

Kicking out viciously ….

Even trying to bite his hand as he tried to protect himself from each blow ….

Unable to avoid a wild punch which suddenly connected just to the side of his left eye ….

Desperate to try to calm her.

It was like she was fighting off a demon.

"Alex …. baby …. It's all right, honey …. It's me, Hawke …." He cooed at her as he leaned closer to her flushed face, but her fingers were instantly trying to scratch at him, nails raking down his face …. neck …. trying to gouge out his eyes ….

Her eyes wide open, wild and frantic …. but obviously not seeing him as she beat her arms about his upper body.

She was strong ….

Very strong ….

Strength that came from fear and adrenalin …. and the most basic human instinct ….

To survive ….

And suddenly, Stringfellow Hawke realised that for her this was not just a bad dream ….

It was horribly real.

A memory ….

Not a nightmare ….

Using all of his strength, Hawke climbed up on the bed, fending off each new blow as they reigned down on his head, arms, upper body, and somehow managed to get behind Alex, wrestling with her, dodging elbows into his stomach and knees into his groin, until he had a good enough hold on her to flip her over onto her stomach and pin her down with his body weight, straddling her narrow waist and leaning into her, holding her arms as gently as he could behind her back as she continued to buck and writhe and scream beneath him.

"Alex, its ok …. Wake up, honey …. Alex, please …." He cooed soothingly into her ear. "It's Hawke …. You're ok, baby …. You're safe …. You're safe …." He reassured, but she continued to fight against him for several more minutes ….

Squirming wildly ….

So much so that he was afraid that he would hurt her by restraining her arms any longer …. Dislocate one of her shoulders ….

And so he flipped her over on to her back and straddled her writhing body once more.

Again her hands were reaching out to grab at his face ….

He did the only thing he could to get through to her ….

Gritting his teeth, Stringfellow Hawke gave Alex's face a resounding slap ….

Suddenly, her eyes grew wide, pupils dilating with shock …. and then a spark of recognition registered in her wild, tear filled brown eyes.

And then, slowly at first, her breathing began to get slower and she stopped fighting against him and the screams changed to deep, heart wrenching sobs that made her whole body shake and convulse.

When he realised that she had stopped resisting him, Hawke quickly gathered her limp body in his arms and crushed her against his own hard torso, cradling her as she wept, hardly able to draw breath between each heart wrenching sob ….

And as she came back to wakefulness, and awareness of where she was and who he was returned, she slipped her arms around him and held onto him tightly until the sobs finally began to subside.

Her strength depleted …. As limp as a rag doll, she clung to him, sobbing and hiccoughing softly and he held her very gently, stroking her head, whispering soothingly into her hair, her neck, comforting her as best he could, until at long last, she grew silent and still ….

And just for an instant, he wondered if she had gone back to sleep now that the dream was over.

And then she let out a long, ragged breath and drew away from him slightly so that she could look into his face.

Fresh tears filled her eyes then as she noted the scratch marks on his face and neck …. A few on his brow which could be covered by his fringe and others on his neck that would be hidden by his shirt collar …. One or two very faint marks on his cheek …. nothing he couldn't pass off as a slight slip with the razor ….

But there was no mistaking the livid red mark …. Lump …. which was forming just to the side of his left eye ….

"Oh God …. Oh God …." She sobbed again, bringing her hand to her mouth in horror at what she had done to him and he gathered her into his arms once more.

"It's all right, Alex …."

"No, it's not all right …" She sobbed back. "Look at what I've done to you …." She wailed, oblivious to the ugly red, hand shaped mark that was now developing on own her cheek …. "I'm sorry …. So sorry …."

"No harm done, honestly, love …." He assured her in gentle tones. "Can't you tell me what the hell that was all about?"

"You mean you can't guess?" She sobbed again. "Moffett …." She breathed the name when he frowned at her, and the sound of the word on her lips made him recoil in horror and shock.

"Christ …." He spat out.

_**So …. it hadn't just been a dream ….**_

She _**had**_ been reliving that awful night ….

No wonder she had fought against him like a demon herself ….

"Dear God, Alex …."

"I'm sorry, String …." She struggled against him then, trying to get out of his arms. "You'll have to get out of my way …. I think I'm going to throw up …." He released her and watched her scurry across the bedroom to the bathroom, and then a few moments later he could hear the sounds of her heaving dryly.

His heart ached for her.

His own dreams were often violent and so vivid he believed he was awake …. But they had never been as real …. As lucid or as painful as what he had just witnessed.

The woman he loved fighting off the man who had tried to kill her ….

And who had almost succeeded ….

A few minutes later he heard the toilet flush, and then the shower running and knew that it would probably be a while before she felt up to talking, and that she might appreciate a little time to herself …. Get her emotions back under control ….

The best thing he could do was to go downstairs, make the coffee and organise something for them to eat ….

And then maybe, when she felt a little more relaxed ….

Calm ….

She would feel able to open up to him.

And then he suddenly remembered the fish he had carelessly discarded on his way up here ….

"Tet …."

There was no sign of the old blue tick hound, and in his heart, Hawke knew that he could kiss his trout breakfast goodbye ….

"Make the best of it, dog …. You're on short ration for the rest of the month …." He grumbled, but his heart wasn't really in scolding the dog ….

He was far more concerned about Alex.

Up stairs, in the bathroom, Alexandra Beecham stood under the jet of steaming water and allowed fresh tears to flow, cascading down her flushed cheeks to mix with the shower water.

Dear God, why had _**that**_ had to happen ….

It had been so long ….

But she suspected that she knew the answer to that.

The date.

Her official birthday ….

On this day, two years ago, she had woken from the coma, the beating still so fresh in her mind the first sounds that she had made had been screams of anguish and fear ….

_**Happy Birthday, Alex ….**_

Yeah ….

_**Happy Birthday ….**_

Poor Hawke ….

He must be thinking that she was a complete lunatic …. Going off at the deep end like that ….

_**Damn ….**_

Where did that leave them?

He would have questions …

_**Oh yes …. **_

_**He would have questions ….**_

She leaned against the cool, damp, tiled wall and pushed her wet hair back out of her eyes, biting down on her bottom lip to stifle still another sob.

She would have to give him answers ….

She had known that the time would eventually come ….

And …. on the way up here ... When he had asked her about flying the chopper …. Offered to let her take the controls …. She had debated about just how much she should tell him ….

And had chickened out at the last minute ….

Deciding that it would be best if they were both safely down on the ground before she dropped _**that**_ bombshell.

He had a right to know.

Especially now.

Now that things were getting ….

Serious ….

And she had always intended to tell him ….

She had just hoped that she would have more time ….

That _**they**_ would have had more time ….

To enjoy what they had together ….

To allow her to prepare what she was going to say ….

Things had been going so well ….

So much laughter ….

Such light hearted banter and teasing ….

She hated to get serious ….

But ….

_**Damn you Charles Moffett ….**_

_**Damn you ….**_

This was most likely going to change the nature of their relationship ….

_**How could it not?**_

More sobs wracked her slender body as she grieved for the love that she had found, and would now, most likely, lose ….

"I should have killed you when I had the chance, Charles Moffett …." She sobbed, drawing in great gulping breaths. "I'll never be free of you …. no matter what …. And neither will he …."

There was nothing else for it ….

Hawke had a right to know ….

A right to make up his mind where they went from here ….

A right to make an informed decision ….

She owed him that much ….

She had to be the one to tell him ….

Because if he found out some other way ….

When it was too late ….

She knew what would happen ….

He would find some way to make it his fault ….

Cover himself in guilt and blame ….

After the heartache he had already suffered in the past ….

How could he not ….

It could prove to be the final straw for him ….

And she would not be the cause of that ….

She would not cause him any more grief or pain of heartache …. Not for anything in the world ….

_**And if he chose to walk away?**_

_**To turn his back?**_

She wouldn't blame him ….

She wouldn't hate him ….

She would love him for the rest of her days ….

Because she could do nothing less ….

If he couldn't deal with it ….

If he chose to walk away ….

Well …. It was his right ….

She wouldn't want him to stay out of a sense of obligation ….

Pity ….

They both deserved more than that ….

So much more ….

And it was a risk that she had to take ….

She had to trust him ….

She had to believe that he would make the right choice for himself ….

_**And if he said it was over ….**_

_**She would not question the wisdom of it ….**_

_**She would accept it ….**_

Another sacrifice for the man that she loved ….

He was worth it ….

She would cherish the memories ….

And hope that he found new love and fulfilment elsewhere ….

With a woman who could give him all the good things in life that he deserved and hankered after …. even if he didn't say it …. Didn't really know it ….

And she would always be there as a friend …. If he needed her ….

Alex tipped her head back under the cascade and allowed the darts of hot water to wash away her tears.

Her decision made.

She knew that it was the right thing to do ….

Even if she lost everything that was dear to her ….

_**Again ….**_

But first she had to get her emotions under control ….

The way he took what she told him would depend on the way she approached it, the way she put it across to him ….

She was sure of that ….

And so she needed to be calm ….

Controlled ….

At peace with it ….

So that he could be too ….

It took all the strength that she possessed, but after half an hour, hair dried and neatly tied back in a pony tail and dressed in jeans and a thick red check woollen jumper over a soft baby pink blouse, and sneakers, Alex Beecham forced her feet to carry her down the stairs.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and cooking aromas finally won the day and she came slowly down the stairs to find Hawke in the kitchen nook, slaving over a hot stove, a skillet of scrambled eggs sitting on the range and a rack of toast …. The granary bread she had bought, perfectly sliced and sitting in the centre of the large table which was neatly laid with cutlery and crockery for two people.

"Hi …." He turned from the stove, something having alerted him to her presence as she reached the bottom step, and regarded her with a soft smile. "Feeling better?" She nodded and moved off the stairs into the main room as he turned back to the stove to concentrate on what he was doing.

"Something smells good …." She spoke with a clear, strong voice and surprised herself at just how calm she felt now. The storm of emotion having left her feeling strangely devoid of any feelings, except acceptance of what she had to do next. "Been hiding your light under a bushel, Mr Hawke …."

"Huh?" He turned from the range and the skillet of eggs to watch her walk toward the table.

"You didn't tell me you could cook." She smiled softly. He had willingly acquiesced, allowing her to put together their meal the previous evening and then they had shared the chore of clearing away the dishes.

"It was a case of having to learn, or starve …." He confided, moving away from the range to the table, to pull out a chair for her.

"All this and good manners too …. You're spoiling me …." She sat down and he helped to push the chair toward the table.

"Well it is your birthday …." He pressed a soft kiss into the top of her head. "Happy birthday …."He whispered gently into her hair, then quickly returned to the skillet of eggs to give them a stir before they stuck to the bottom and burned. "There's fresh coffee …. Help yourself to toast …. The eggs won't be a minute …."

She reached out for the hot coffee pot and carefully poured out half a cup, then looked around for the milk and realised that he had forgotten to put it on the table. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, and immediately he span around to see what she was doing.

"Alex?"

"Milk, String …." The look on his face was almost her undoing ….

_**Damn him ….**_

Such concern …. Such tenderness …. Such compassion …. Such love ….

"Sorry …. I'll get it …." He told her, serving eggs onto a warm plate and picking up the carton of milk he had used to add just a little to the egg mixture, with the other hand as he came back to the table.

"I thought you wanted fish for breakfast …." She frowned as he set the plate of food before her and reached out to move the rack of toast closer to her.

A strange look settled on his face and she could not help smiling at him.

"That was the plan …. But Tet kind of beat me to it …." He glared at the dog who was lying in front of the open fire place on the other side of the room.

"Oh …."

"Never mind …. I went with plan B." He told her as he returned to the stove to serve up his own portion of eggs.

"Plan B is good …. String …."Something about her tone must have warned him of her intention to try to talk about what had happened upstairs.

"It's ok Alex …." He reassured her. "You don't have to say anything …. I've been known to have a nightmare or two, myself …." He told her. "Eat …. Eat …." He encouraged, waving a wooden spoon at her as he dished up the eggs on to his plate. "You don't get your present until you've eaten every bite …." He told her sternly and continued to wave the spoon at her encouragingly.

It was obvious that he wasn't going to allow her to dwell on what had happened, and it was equally obvious that he had planned this meal to the last detail ….

A celebratory birthday breakfast.

And he was determined that she was going to enjoy it.

Well, ok ….

She could live with that for now ….

It would give her a little more time ….

But she wasn't prepared to put it off indefinitely.

Not now she had worked up the courage to tell him ….

"Another present eh …."

She picked up her fork and scooped up some of the eggs and popped them into her mouth. They were good. Soft and fluffy and buttery ….

"Mmm …. You missed your calling …." She told him around the mouthful of food and setting down her fork, reached out to take a slice of the toasted granary bread and smeared a liberal amount of butter on to it.

"Another present?" He frowned at her, carrying his own breakfast to the table now. "What other present?"

"The one you gave to me at the stroke of midnight, my love …." She smiled wickedly then, recalling that that was the moment he had chosen to initial their first bout of lovemaking.

"Oh …. That present."

"Yes, _**that**_ present …. You …." Much to her surprise he began to colour up most charmingly. "Are you blushing?"

He covered it very well by taking a mouthful of food, but she could see the wicked twinkle in his beautiful soft blue eyes.

"I guess that officially makes me your bird then …." A smile curved briefly at the corners of her lips.

"My what?"

"Your bird …. Your girl …." She smiled shyly. "Blokes back in England call their steady girls, their bird …." She explained.

She wished she hadn't looked into his eyes because it drew attention to the bruise that was making its presence known around his left eye and she winced.

He was going to have a beautiful black eye in the morning ….

Good thing she had brought plenty of steak ….

_**Had she really done that to him?**_

She squinted away the tears that had pricked at her eyes and concentrated on putting more food into her mouth and chewing automatically.

She wouldn't spoil this for him.

He had put a lot of effort into it ….

"My bird, huh …." He tried it out and scowled. "I prefer my girl …. My steady girl would be even better …." He chuckled then and noted the look on her face …. Unable to define what it was that he saw there …. Only knowing that it made his heart beat faster ….

"I thought we might go for a walk later on …." He told her, watching her putting food into her mouth like a robot on remote control. "There are some really pretty trails we could follow, or we could just follow the shoreline for a little way …." He suggested.

"Whatever …." She smiled at him, then popped more eggs into her mouth.

"Relax, Alex …. We don't have to do anything at all if you don't want to …. We could just sit and listen to music or ta…." He stopped abruptly and she knew that he had been about to say that they could talk. However, he had obviously thought better of it, not wanting to give her any chance to dwell on the incident.

It was obvious that he was not ready to talk about it yet ….

"A walk would be nice .… work off all these calories …."She smiled, letting it pass ….

For now ….

She would know when the time was right to talk to him.

Right now she was happy to go along with whatever he had planned to make her birthday special.

"That's settled then …. More coffee?" He rose agilely from his seat and picked up the coffee pot then came to stand behind her so that he could pour the brew into her cup. The task achieved, he set the coffee pot back down on the table and set the milk carton down in front of her.

"Thanks …." She smiled up at him gently and watched as he produced a small box from his pants pocket and set it down before her.

It was a small pale blue box, the kind which came from jewellery stores and as she looked at it, sitting there, so innocent ….

Her heart came up into her mouth ….

_**He hadn't?**_

_**Had he?**_

_**He couldn't have?**_

_**Could he?**_

_**Could it be that he really was that serious?**_

_**Oh God ….**_

_**Maybe it would work out all right after all ….**_

"Well …." He had returned to his seat while she was gawking, and was watching her rather strange expression. "It won't bite." He told her, unable to read her expression just for once. "Go on then …. Open it …."

With slightly trembling fingers, Alex picked up the box and opened it very carefully ….

Lifting the lid, to reveal a pretty gold St Christopher medallion on a delicate, fine gold chain, nestling on a bed of black velvet.

She let out a soft gasp and Hawke was suddenly grinning from ear to ear.

"Its exquisite, String …. Thank you …. Thank you so much …."

She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed ….

Just for a moment ….

She had been on the brink of reaching the most dizzy heights of happiness that a women could ever know ….

And then she had remembered the ordeal that she had yet to face ….

The news that she had to break to him ….

And her heart had almost broken into a thousand pieces ….

Dashed against the rocks of disappointment and despair ….

And she had quickly had to cover her disappointment ….

Fighting to make her lips curve into a natural smile.

To tell herself that it was maybe for the best ….

Their relationship was still young ….

Why would he have given any thought to making _**that**_ kind of commitment …. And sealing it with the offering of a ring ….

Just because she loved him with every fibre of her being and knew exactly what _**she**_ wanted for their future ….

It didn't follow that _**he**_ did ….

And with what she had to tell him, hanging over head like the sword of Damocles ….

Yes ….

It was for the best ….

"Happy birthday, Alex …." He reached out across the table and touched his fingertips to hers and when she looked up from the box, her beautiful dark eyes were swimming with unshed tears ….

But she was smiling.

"It's lovely. I'll treasure it always …." She told him with such an earnest expression on her face he could not help frowning.

"It's just a little token …."

"No …. It's the most beautiful gift anyone could have given me …. St Christopher, isn't that the patron saint of travellers?" He nodded. "Well …. I am certainly doing more travelling since I met up with you …." She smiled through a veil of tears then, seeming to pull herself together now.

He reached out for her hand and turned it over, so he could study her palm.

"Mmmm, now, let me see …. Oh yes …. I see lots more travel ahead for you …." He grinned.

"Foreign?"

"No, strictly domestic …. Short hops mainly …. Say from LA to here …." He chuckled. "If the place doesn't give you cabin fever that is. You will always be welcome here, Alex. I'd like you to treat the place as your home …."

"Home …." She gulped down the lump in her throat then.

"Yes …."

"Thanks …."

"Let me put it on for you …." He offered, releasing her hand and slipping out of his chair to come and stand behind her, then taking the necklace carefully from the box he slipped it around her throat and fastened it with ease.

It wasn't a long chain and the medallion sat perfectly in the gap between her collar bones. He nudged it with his index finger and it glistened cheerfully in the morning sunlight, then it settled, lying flat against her jumper. Hawke then slid his arms down around her shoulders, leaning down to press a soft kiss into her fragrant hair, as she captured his hands in her own, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Eat up …. And then we'll decide where to go for our walk …."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Six.

_**Knightsbridge – Headquarters of The Firm.**_

_**Saturday 19**__**th**__** May, 1984.**_

_**Michael Coldsmith Brigg's III's Office – 8.30am **_

Michael Coldsmith Briggs III entered his office and sat down at his desk with an expressive sigh. For once it was cleared of paperwork, and he suspected that Marella had stayed late the previous night to clear the decks for him, after he had called her to let her know that he was returning to the States early.

_**Vacations ….**_

_**Whoever had invented them should be fed to the sharks ….**_

Inactivity had never been one of his strongest suits.

Mental or physical ….

And due to the events of the past few months, he had been forced to remain inactive for longer than he had ever had to in his life before ….

Weeks in hospital and then at home recuperating …. Then more time in physical therapy, only allowed to take a little gentle exercise, and certainly no horseback riding …. After the incident at Red Star …. Had left him feeling old and useless and itching to get back to work and kick some serious butt over getting that damned helicopter back ….

He had just been getting back into the swing of things …. Starting to enjoy his work once more, especially, he had to admit to himself, his encounters with the formidable and challenging Stringfellow Hawke ….

His doctor's insistence, backed up by the Firm's own medics, that he take some down time had frustrated Archangel …. There was just so much going on …. He needed to keep his finger on the pulse ….

But thanks to long distance telephones and Marella …. He was up to speed on most things ….

And as he had requested, although she had already given him a brief outline, Marella had left the latest reports for the last forty eight hours on his desk ready for him to dive into.

He was particularly interested in one report from East Germany ….

Sightings of a very lowly Russian General crossing into West Germany and then taking a plane, firstly to Paris, and then showing up at Kennedy in New York, and then on to LAX ….

Posing as a tourist cum businessman ….

Could be he was here to sound out the possibility of defecting ….

Although, stationed in Siberia as he had been for the past six months or so, it was hardly likely that he would have much useful information to impart in exchange for a new life in the US ….

Or, his reasons for being here could be rather more sinister.

Archangel tried to rack his brain ….

Trying to work out what it might be in LA or on the West Coast in general, that had attracted such a lowly Russian General …. But he couldn't think of anything ….

Except the Olympics which were coming up in July ….

However, unless he was going to claim to be a member of the Soviet team, or one of their officials, Sevchenko had little chance of convincing anyone that he was here for the Games.

Other than that …. Archangel mused silently.

No high powered meetings going on …. No visiting dignitaries ... No projects in the pipe work that the Russians might have gotten wind of ….

Indeed ….

The only thing that the Russians could remotely be interested in was ….

Airwolf ….

Of course the Russians would be interested in Airwolf ….

But thus far, there hadn't been a sniff ….

They had to know that she was no longer in government hands ….

But they couldn't know for sure _**who**_ had her ….

_**Or could they?**_

Other interested parties had made their intentions known …. Even going so far as to drug and kidnap Hawke and try to make him believe that he had been in a coma for almost a year ….

But Hawke had been smart ….

Suspicious ….

Calluses on his damned hands, for crying out loud …. If he'd been sleeping for the better part of a year, he wouldn't have calluses on his hands ….Only Hawke could have thought of that ….

And their plan had fallen apart ….

Hawke had Airwolf stashed away somewhere so safe that nothing short of a spy satellite could detect it ….

Their own or the other side's ….

Archangel hoped ….

Relieved to hear from Marella that DG Bogard had quickly been reassigned to a desk in Baltimore ….

_**Curiouser and Curiouser, said Alice ….**_

Maybe it was nothing ….

But maybe, just to be on the safe side …. He should have a surveillance team assigned to General Vladimir Sevchenko, who was presently passing himself off as a German movie producer called Klaus Bauer ….

And maybe he would give Hawke a call ….

Just to shoot the breeze ….

See if anything had registered on his very sensitive radar …. If he or Dominic had noticed anything suspicious ….

However when he dialled the familiar number of the Santini Air hangar, there was no reply, the line just kept ringing out ….

Strange ….

So he used the satellite link to Hawke's cabin ….

But again there was no reply ….

Then he remembered that it was Saturday ….

And that Hawke and Santini still thought that he was on vacation ….

It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that they had made plans to be out of town for the weekend ….

And then he spotted a note from Marella, when he picked up the file containing the reports he wanted to read …. Informing him that Dominic Santini had gone to Seattle for an Air Race Show and that Hawke had retired to his cabin for the weekend and did not want to be disturbed ….

Romantic plans …. Marella had added cryptically ….

_**Terrific ….**_

Oh well ….

It could wait until Monday ….

Probably nothing in it anyway ….

He let out a soft sigh and put his legs up on his desk as he settled back to read the reports Marella had left for him. Maybe they would enlighten him as to what the Russian General was up to ….

And then he would decide what, if anything, to do about it ….

_**Stringfellow Hawke's Cabin – Eagle Lake.**_

Stringfellow Hawke stepped up on to the cabin's wooden porch, returning with arms full of chopped wood from the wood pile stacked up at the corner of the cabin, to bank up the fire, as the night had turned chill, a faint drizzle in the air and the mountain tops shrouded in a gauzy mist ….

But he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Alexandra Beecham, framed in the soft golden light from within as she sat in the window seat, staring, unseeing, out of the window, her thoughts directed inwards, not out at the inky darkness beyond the cabin.

He let out a soft sigh.

He didn't know where she was ….

But one thing was for sure, she wasn't here …. with him.

They had had a lovely day, hiking around the lake and following a couple of the trails that he knew, up into the foothills of the mountains.

Alex had thrown food into a clean dish towel and knotted the edges together and he had produced a small backpack to carry the food, and a large canteen of water in and they had struck out, walking hand in hand, laughing, joking, teasing….

The horrors of earlier seemingly forgotten.

They had walked up to the high meadow, then they had sat among the wildflowers and talked ….

No ….

_**He**_ had talked ….

She had persuaded him to tell her more about his childhood …. St John …. His relationship with Dominic Santini …. His work ….

Absorbed in the smallest details of his life ….

He had talked while they had eaten and as he had chewed crusty bread and cheese and she had playfully dangled grapes into his mouth …. and they had taken in the magnificence and splendour of the view, somehow it had not been as hard to pour it all out to her ….

Hawke had realised that he _**wanted**_ her to know what made him tick.

He _**needed**_ her to understand what made him the man that he was.

It would help her to understand why his moods were sometimes dark and destructive.

And she had smiled lovingly up at him, her head cradled in his lap as she had picked a buttercup and shone it under his chin ….

And he had been able to see in her eyes that she understood.

And it was at that moment, when she had reached up to touch his rough cheek with her thin, delicate fingers, that he had also realised that he loved her.

_**Really loved her ….**_

Loved her more than he had thought it possible to ever love another human being ….

Even more than he had thought that he had loved Gabrielle.

He had realised that he had loved this women for a very long time ….

Over two lifetimes now ….

_**Two incarnations ….**_

As Natasha Banks ….

And now as Alexandra Beecham …

Loved them both in different ways ….

For she had been right when she had told him that Alex was nothing like Tasha.

Tasha had been a child ….

Alex was most definitely all woman ….

She had slipped her hand up around his neck and drawn his face down so that she could kiss him ….

And inevitably they had ended up making love again, in the tall grass amid the pretty wild flowers ….

And there had been something different about the woman he had held in his arms this afternoon ….

Something different about her reaction to his kisses and his caresses ….

Nothing shy, or coy or reserved about her reactions …..

Quite the opposite in fact ….

So fierce …. So intense …. So demanding …. Urgent …. needy and powerful ….

Driven ….

Driving him on ….

And yet, in the taking ….

She had given him so much more ….

The love in her eyes undeniable ….

And his heart had been fit to burst with happiness.

Later as the afternoon sun had been masked by low, threatening grey clouds, they had walked in silent contemplation back to the cabin and then Hawke had taken Tet out to catch more fish for dinner.

Knowing that he had never known such contentment ….

When he had returned with two more beautiful trout dangling from a hook and Tet walking attentively at his heels, it was to find Alex fixing a salad and putting potatoes into the oven to bake, a perfectly broiled steak already sitting on a serving platter on the hot plate on the top of the stove.

She had smiled softly at him, but he had seen immediately that there was something different about her.

Remote ….

Detached ….

She was quiet and thoughtful now …. Moving around the kitchen with a quiet purpose, busying herself with opening the wine and slicing bread and setting the table with condiments and cutlery, while Hawke cleaned and washed and then cooked the fish for his dinner.

Her usual playfulness completely absent ….

When they sat down to eat their meal, Hawke drew her into conversation, picking safe subjects like her work at the school and the Rutherford's and what ambitions she had for the future. She responded to his questions readily enough but their usual light, teasing banter was missing tonight.

When they had cleared away the debris of their meal and put away the clean dishes, Alex had asked Hawke if he would play the cello for her, and while he got ready to play, taking the precious antique Stradivarius cello from its purpose built niche, Alex had taken her wine glass and sauntered over to the window seat, where she had settled herself while he played.

"What would you like to hear?" He had asked, drawing his bow across the strings, filling the room with the first few bars of 'Happy Birthday', to check that the instrument was in perfect tune.

"Something light and gay and lively …. No dirges tonight, if you don't mind …." She had spoken absently, settling herself into the window seat, feet up on the padded cushion and her back resting lightly against the book case that stood beside it.

"Ask for something easy, why don't you …." He had rolled his eyes expressively. "The cello is rather a mournful instrument …." He reminded. "It's the sorrowful voice of the orchestra …. There aren't too many cheerful cello pieces."

"Can't you play it like a double bass?"

"Sure …." He demonstrated by plucking a few strings but pulled a sour face at the sound the instrument produced. "It was designed to be played with a bow …. And that's how you get the true beauty of it …."

"Ok …. Surprise me …." She had sighed softly, taken a sip of her wine and then closed her eyes.

He had played one of his favourite pieces, a deeply emotional piece by Edward Elgar, an English composer he was sure she would recognise …. A concerto called The Lost World …. Producing a sweet, clear sound and playing it with real feeling, carried away by the music and when he had finished, for a moment, he could have sworn that he could see tears shimmering on Alexandra's cheeks ….

However, when he turned back from returning the cello to its resting place, the tears were gone and she was gazing out of the window and he was unsure if it was the music that had moved her …. Or the thoughts crowding her head …. Preoccupying her ... That had caused this sudden melancholia.

It was just so damned out of character …. he found it very unsettling …. Unnerving ….

"I'll go get some wood …. It's a little chilly in here …." He had told her but Alex had made no sign that she had heard him, and he had left the room, pulling the door closed softly behind him.

Now, Hawke stood on the porch, trying to work out where, and how it had all gone wrong ….

And he couldn't help wondering if a different kind of storm was building up ….

He knew, as surely as he knew his own name ….. She had changed her mind about them ….

She had had time to think ….

And had realised that it was a mistake ….

It had gotten way too serious …. way too fast ….

She was young ….

Why would she be serious about a relationship with a man who was eleven years older than she was and came with the kind of emotional baggage that he dragged around with him constantly?

She was young, carefree, alive ….

She was building up to telling him that it was over ….

He was sure of it ….

And he had no idea what he would do without her ….

With a heavy heart he opened the door and crossed the room on purposeful strides, depositing the chunks of sweet smelling, freshly chopped wood into the box beside the fireplace and then dropped one on to the roaring fire which danced prettily in the hearth.

He leaned against the mantle for a moment, trying to decide what to do next watching smoke curl from the new wood on the blaze in the hearth as it caught, and then he took a deep breath and turned back to face Alex ….

Only to discover that she was watching him curiously.

"Would you like some more wine? Coffee?" He asked politely, like the good host that he was, suddenly unnerved by the calmness and determination he saw in her deep brown eyes.

"No …. Thanks." She rose from her seat in the window and crossed the room, taking a small detour to place her half full wine glass on the dining table before settling herself down on the couch.

"String …."

"It's all right, Alex…." He let out a deep sigh. "Just say it …. Spit it out …. Get it off your chest …. You'll feel better …." He drawled, trying desperately to hide his hurt and confusion.

"I will?" She frowned at him, obviously not following him.

"Yeah …. It's obvious you have something on your mind …." He sighed again raggedly. "To borrow a phrase from Dominic …. You're chewing on something, but you ain't swallowing …. Just say it, Alex …. I've been dumped before you know …."

"Dumped?" She regarded him with complete astonishment and Hawke frowned then, wondering if he had gotten completely the wrong end of the stick. "Oh String …. Is that what you think?" A weak smile briefly touched her lips and that made him feel even more confused.

"What else am I supposed to think, Alex? You've been quiet, thoughtful, preoccupied …. withdrawn …."

"Well …. it's true I've had something on my mind …. But dumping you was the furthest thing, I can promise you …. Come …." She patted the empty seat beside her on the couch. "Sit …."

Hesitantly, Hawke moved to the couch and perched himself on the very edge of the cushion, regarding her with confused big blue eyes.

"There are a couple of things I want to say to you …." She began in a soft voice, reaching out to take his hand in her own. It was cold after his trip outside and she smiled, lifting it to her lips to press a soft, warm kiss to his knuckles.

"Alex …." He groaned, his eyes beseeching her to get to the point and put him out of his misery.

"Ok …." She released his hand then and tucked her own neatly in her lap. "Firstly, I think it's time we talked about what happened this morning …."

"You had a nightmare …. It happens …. No big deal …."

"Yes, big deal …." She contradicted. "I must have behaved like some wild animal, kicking, biting, punching …. And I hurt you …."

"It was an accident …. Which is more than I can say about your face …." He reached out tentatively to lightly touch the flaming spot on her cheek where his hand had connected with her flesh. "I'm sorry about that, Alex .…" He sighed raggedly again.

"I guess I was hysterical …."

"You were defending yourself …. fighting for your life …."

"Yes, I was …." She paused for a moment to draw in a long breath. "It was that night …. Moffett …."

"I know …."

"Damn him … I'll never be free of him …." This on a sob, torn out of her with such anguish it almost broke Hawke's heart ….

So that was it …

Being with him so reminded her of the past ….

Of that awful night and what Moffett had done to her ….

She could not bear it ….

"He can't hurt you anymore, love …." The words were out before he realised.

"We could still run into each other by accident …. Just like you and I did …." She told him bluntly, but he reached out and captured one of her hands, inching slightly closer to her, his knee touching her thigh now.

"No, love …." He assured, squeezing her hand gently. "He _**can't**_ hurt you …. Because he's dead …." He confessed on a soft, low voice.

"Dead?"She echoed. "How do you know …."

"I know …." She took stock for a moment, and he could almost see the cogs working in her brain.

"You're sure ….

"I'm sure …." He confirmed and watched realisation dawn in her eyes …. Along with acceptance of the truth he spoke.

"You _**know**_ …. because …. _**you**_ killed him …." It wasn't a question. She said it with total certainty. "You killed him …. But …"

"It's a long story …." He sighed, waiting to see the horror and anger and shock register on her lovely face ….

And was surprised when she showed no sign of any of those thing ….

"We have all night …."She encouraged, her voice even, if a little soft, her eyes devoid of judgement or accusation.

"He took Airwolf …. Stole her …. After turning all her weapons on the lab and everyone in it …. Tried to sell her to the Libyans …. Archangel approached me to get her back …."

"Naturally …. And …." She prompted and he could see from her expression that she was not going to let him get away with telling her only that.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Stringfellow Hawke set about telling Alex about Gabrielle, about Archangel's commandeering his art collection in a bid to blackmail him into getting Airwolf back …. About Gabrielle having to replace Angela, the agent who had been killed …. And about how he had found her, dying, in the desert, after Moffett had finished with her ….

And finally, how he had found Moffett making his escape across the desert and had, without regret, remorse or compunction, ruthlessly turned every weapon at his disposal aboard Airwolf on the twisted, psychopathic bastard ….

And blown him to hell ….

He did not, however, tell her that he had then refused to give Airwolf back to the Firm, but instead had held her hostage so that he could get more information on the whereabouts of his missing brother, St John ….

Making a deal with Archangel to use Airwolf on government business in exchange for information about St John ….

"Thank you …." Alex breathed, her expression a mixture of awe and relief.

"Thank you?" He echoed. It wasn't exactly what Hawke had been expecting to hear from her.

"Yes … _**thank you ….**_ You'll never know how much easier I'll sleep knowing that that bastard no longer walks this earth …."

"I think I can hazard a guess …."

"The nightmares …. They don't happen very often …." She reassured him now. "I think this one was triggered by the date …. My birthday …" She explained.

"And me …. My being back in your life …. It's too painful a reminder …."

"No, String …." She assured, inching closer to him on the couch. Reaching out to place her hand lightly on his knee …. "That's not it at all …."

Didn't he know that having him back in her life was the most wonderful thing that could ever have happened?

_**Obviously not ….**_

"Airwolf …." He saw the spark of interest in her eyes now. "So …. You got to fly her …. How was she?"

"Amazing …." He could not prevent a smile from tugging at his lips then.

"I'm glad …. Glad that you got to take her up for real, at least once …."

_**If only she knew the half of it ….**_

"I'd really like to see her …. Fully operational …. But I guess there's no chance of that now …." She sighed softly, genuine regret in her eyes then.

"You said there were a couple of things …." He reminded her, swiftly changing the subject.

"Oh …. Yes …." She confirmed, growing awkward once more. "As we're baring our souls, I guess it's my turn …." She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, and he wondered what could possibly be so difficult for her to tell him ….

Didn't she know that there was nothing that she could do or say that would shock him, or drive him away ….

_**Obviously not ….**_

"String …. I want us to be open and honest with each other …."

"Me too …."

"And that is why I have to tell you what I am about to tell you …."

Her tone was solemn, and there was such sorrow and regret and pain in her eyes now, Hawke suddenly had the most awful feeling that what she was about to say was worse than if she had dumped him.

"Are you sick?" He asked in a low voice, edged with emotion.

It was the only thing he could think of.

"Alex …."

_**Lord but he was quick on the uptake ….**_

_**Very astute ….**_

_**And there it was ….**_

_**That**_ look …. on his dear face ….

The one that she had prayed she would see there ….

The same one she had also dreaded seeing there ….

The one that told her that he did indeed love her …. and that what she was about to tell him could break his heart ….

Could destroy those tender feelings …. forever ….

"Oh String …. I love you so much …." She confessed on a ragged breath and then almost bit her tongue ….

That was not what she had meant to say .… but, now it was out ….

And she couldn't just leave it like that..

"For good or bad …. Rightly or wrongly …. I _**do**_ love you …. Probably more than is good for me …."

"I lo …." She reached out and put her finger to his lips, silencing him, noting the look of utter relief in his eyes.

He obviously thought that the reason why she had seemed so preoccupied was because she had been wrangling with how to tell him how she felt without frightening him off ….

_**Bless him ….**_

_**If only ….**_

"Wait String …." She implored. "There is something that you should know …. before you say anything else …. Something that could change the way you might feel …." He made to protest, but she did not remove her finger from his lips.

"After the attack …." She began, casting her eyes downward, unable to look him in the eye now, only then her finger slowly dropping from his lips

"When Moffett left me for dead …." She continued in a low voice. "He didn't know just how close he came …." She looked up, reluctantly then and found him regarding her with a soft, understanding expression on his dear face.

"I told you that my injuries were serious …. That it was touch and go for a while …. I had to have brain surgery …. I was in there for hours while the surgeons worked to remove a blood clot and to relieve the pressure caused by the swelling …. And they did a wonderful job …. Working tirelessly for most of the night …. And they saved my life …. But …."

"But …." There was a note of anxiety in his voice now.

"But …. I was left with a mild form of epilepsy …. Not seizures as such, just absences …. I lose time …. It's called temporal lobe epilepsy and to people who witness one of these …. Episodes …. it looks a bit like I'm daydreaming …. Off in another world …. It's under control …." She told him quickly, wanting to reassure him that it had never been a problem while they had been together and that it would not be in the future. " …. with medication, otherwise flying wouldn't be the only thing I can't do …. I wouldn't be able to drive …." She explained patiently.

"I hadn't had an episode for almost six months …. Except …. I guess I had a small episode in school, the day before Casey's funeral …. Class just thought I was staring out of the window, day dreaming, and got a little rowdy …. Sophie Rutherford had to come bawl them out …." She hung her head briefly then. "She couldn't get me to answer her when she spoke to me and said 'I was away with the fairies ….' It only lasted for a few minutes …. Two at most …. But it was enough to unnerve a woman who is the most sensible and grounded person I know …."

"I guess it was the shock …. I just got so upset …. Over Casey …. Her suicide …. But …. it was a reminder, that no matter how much I think it might be under control …. Gone even …. It's still there …." She let out a ragged sigh, and Hawke recalled how tired and pale she had looked on the day of the funeral, and just how maternal Sophie Rutherford's behaviour toward Alex had been that day.

Was that what she had been brooding over?

That something like that would change the way he felt about her?

She saw his expression change and guessed the direction his thoughts were taking.

"String …." She spoke again before he could say anything. "That's not all …. Despite all their hard work, a brain scan later revealed that the blood vessels they had tried to repair were weak …. And that blood was building up …. Causing an aneurism ..."

She watched as realisation dawned in his beautiful deep blue eyes then and she felt a lump rise in her throat.

The moment of truth ….

He watched her in silence for several minutes, wrestling with what she had said.

"Why didn't you say something …." He finally managed at last.

"It's hardly an ice breaker over dinner …. Hey Hawke, great to see you after all this time, how's the soup …. and oh, by the way, there's this thing in my head that could burst at any time …. And I could just drop dead …."

She noticed him wince then, and realised that she had perhaps been a little too blunt ….

That he hadn't gotten quite as far as working out what might happen.

"Look String …. if, say for instance, we had met as complete strangers …. we had met for the first time …. Liked what we saw …. Decided we would like to get to know each other better …. Can you honestly say that you would have handled hearing that I had this …. thing …. on our first date?"

She had a point, Hawke knew, and he sighed softly, shocked by what she was telling him.

"You could have trusted me …."

"It had nothing to do with trusting you or not trusting you …." She reassured. "Would it have been any easier on the second date? Third date?" She asked him, her eyes imploring him to understand her feelings.

"It's not something that I am comfortable about talking about …. I don't enjoy laying my life out like a quilt for all and sundry to walk all over …. String, I told you I wasn't Tasha …. I'm a different person, and this is a different life …. Like lots of new stuff, I've had to learn to live with it …. When I meet new people I can get away with telling them I was born with it …. Or that I had a bad accident …. But not with you …. I have a past that I cannot hide from you …. But I don't want to have to keep explaining myself, I don't want to keep tripping up over my past …. I see the look in your eyes whenever it happens …. That murderous look you get on your face when you think about it …. About Moffett …." She sighed sadly then.

"I'm sorry, Alex …." He managed at last.

"At least now I don't have to worry that you will rush off and commit murder …." She gave him a weak smile then, taking some of the sting out of her words.

"You still should have told me …."

"I'm telling you now …."Her voice rose a notch and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth to stop herself from bursting into tears.

"I'm sorry …. Yes …. Maybe I should have …. But things were going so well …. It was just so nice to be able to relax and be myself …. I didn't want to complicate thing …. Spoil things …." She let out a long, ragged sigh.

"After all, it's not the same thing as finding out I am an uncoordinated klutz …. It's a scary thing, String. You remember how it was in the beginning with us …. I couldn't be sure what was going to happen between us …. and if all you really wanted was a friend …. A companion …. Easy come, easy go …. Someone to have a little fun with …." She paused to take a deep breath.

"I didn't know that I was going to fall so deeply in love with you …. And I didn't dare hope that you might begin to have feelings for me too …." She lowered her eyes then, but he could not fail to see the soft blush colouring her cheeks.

"Something like that can put a guy off …. It's a complication they can't or don't want to have to deal with …. It just made me cautious …. Made me realise that I should wait and see where we were headed …. Before I burdened you with it …." She confessed.

"And I guess I was just a little bit selfish …. I always meant to tell you …. But …. I also wanted to know what it felt like to love you …. To learn what it felt like to be loved _**by**_ you …. To know that you loved me …. and that you could cope with this …. _**before**_ I committed too much of my heart to you …. But I miscalculated …. I was already too deeply in love with you by the time we had our second date …. I fell in love with you back there at Red Star …. And despite the years in between …. I never stopped loving you. I wanted time with you, String …. Time to understand my feelings, and to find out what you were feeling too …. Time to be together, to have fun, to form a bond based on friendship as well as affection …. I knew if I told you right at the beginning, before we had a chance to get to know each other again …. you'd probably run a bloody mile …. "

"You're …. dying …." He finally choked out, the penny having finally dropped.

"_**No! No love …. I'm living ….**_ Living every day to the fullest, but certainly not as if it is my last …. When I go …. It will be because it is my time …. But I refuse to live each day like I'm under a death sentence …." She told him defiantly now.

"I refuse to give into it …. Don't you see, if I did that, then _**he**_ would have won …. Moffett …. He might just as well have killed me that night …."

Hawke sat perfectly still, watching her speak with such passion, and he realised that she had indeed given this a lot of thought.

His heart was racing in his chest ….

She was so brave ….

He could not help but admire her ….

"And the reason I've decided to tell you now …. Is …. Well …. Because things are getting serious between us now …. And I felt you had a right to know …. And because I don't want the man that I love, the man who loves me, the man that I eventually share the rest of my life with …. to act like it is a death sentence either …. Life has to go on …. As if everything is normal …."

"But it isn't normal …." His voice suddenly cracked. "You might not wake up one morning …"

"We can all say that, String .… Nobody lives forever …. None of us know when we are going to die …. None of us …. And that's as it should be …." She told him softly, but he could see what looked like disappointment in her eyes.

Obviously he was reacting in the way she had suspected he would ….

But dammit ….

He was only human ….

_**How else was he supposed to act?**_

He loved her ….

And here she was telling him that she had a serious medical condition that could snatch her …. And his happiness …. away from him …. without warning ….

If he had acted like it didn't mean a damn …. She would probably have been hurt and offended ….

She would probably have felt betrayed ….

"I have lived with this for two years …. Yes …. Two years I maybe had no right to…. Because, if the surgeons hadn't intervened, then I would have died …. Two years that have been a blessing in many ways, but hard nonetheless …. I don't think about it anymore. I refuse to dwell on it …. At first it was _**all**_ I could think of …. that tomorrow might be my last day on this earth, but then I realised that thinking like that was counter productive …. I was in danger of turning it into a self fulfilling prophecy …. If I _**thought**_ I was going to die today, then I probably _**would**_ …. That wasn't healthy, String …. It was stopping me from _**living**_ …. And what was the point …. I might just as well have been dead …. I might just as well have stayed in that coma …."

She let out a deep, ragged sigh, and he so wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and tell her that it would be all right ...

That he would deal with it ….. because he loved her and he wanted her in his life ….

But he couldn't ….

Suddenly unsure if he really _**could **_deal with it ….

Suddenly remembering just how painful it had been to lose Gabrielle ….

And what he felt for Alex was twice as powerful ….

Twice as deep ….

Could he ever come to terms with the idea that she too, one day, would leave him .…

Not because she wanted to ….

But because she had no choice ….

He would once again lose a woman that he loved ….

And he would be alone once more ….

He didn't know if he was strong enough ….

Maybe it would be better to live out the rest of his life alone than to subject himself to that kind of agony ….

Again ….

Maybe it just boiled down to the fact that he wasn't as courageous as she was.

"And so I stopped worrying about it and got on with the living …." She told him, watching the turmoil going on behind his blue eyes, her heart heavy in her chest.

"And …. if we are to go on together, String, I need to know that you can do the same. Accept it, be aware of it, but put it behind us and go on as if nothing has changed …." She paused briefly to take a breath.

"The last thing I want is for you to start blaming yourself. No guilt, no recriminations. Whatever time we are granted will be a blessing …. After all, we might never have found each other again …." A ghost of a smile curved at her lips, briefly, yet even then she could not help wondering if she was simply asking too much of him ….

"But, if you _**can't**_ put it behind us …. If you try to wrap me up in cotton wool …. If all you can think about is that tomorrow might be my last day …. Then I don't think I can deal with that …." Her voice cracked then and she took a moment to gather her composure.

"I have no past …. At least not one that I can share with anyone except you, and that won't work either …. I'm not that person any more and this is a different life. My official past history is just a few contrived lines in a bio and some falsified papers. The only thing I can count on is a future. The greatest gift that _**anyone**_ can give to me is a future …. With plans and aspirations and ambitions to aim for. Just like every other couple in the world starting out together on that great adventure called love. Be it a few hours, days, weeks or months …. And there's nothing to say that it won't be years and years and years …." This time the smile that curved at her lips was a little more confident and reassuring

"And I want nothing more than to have you at my side in that future. These last two years without you in my life have been the hardest …. The loneliest …." She told him, her eyes welling with huge tears, but burning fiercely with determination.

"But, I would much rather walk away and never see you again, than wake up every morning to see that look in your eyes ….. the one that says your terrified of losing me …. That you are terrified that this will be the day when we have to say goodbye …. Or maybe the day we might not get a chance to say goodbye …. And the pity …. I don't want your pity, String …. I just want your love …. And maybe …. One day, when you're ready …. If you're ever ready …. Your name …."

"Oh Alex …." He reached out and dragged her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she thought he might crack her ribs. "I love you …. I love you so much …."

"That's nice …." She started to weep then, yet despite the tears, there was a genuine smile of happiness on her lips as she realised that he was hardly holding her as though she were some delicate flower that might break.

It gave her a spark of hope.

"But don't be too hasty. Give yourself time to take it in …. And then, my dearest, darling …. Tell me again …." She sobbed softly, burying her face in his neck then.

"Tell me again, that you love me …. And when you do, I will want two promises from you …." She pulled away then to look up into his precious face once more, tears streaming unhindered down her face.

"One …. that you will always treat me exactly the same as you have up until today …. That you won't molly coddle me and treat me with kid gloves or like a precious china doll. I am not too delicate to do the ordinary things in life, I haven't let it stop me in the last two years …. without you in my life, and I _**won't**_ be stopped from doing what everyone else takes for granted. It's _**my**_ life …. And I want to enjoy it …. And …. That means wanting the man I share it with to enjoy it with me. Not to constantly be watching me, holding his breath and waiting for doomsday …." She told him through wet sobs.

"And secondly …. When I die …. When I'm gone, if I should happen to go first …. I want you to promise me that you won't turn in on yourself and blame yourself, cover yourself in grief and bury yourself alive. I need you to promise me that you will go on living …. Maybe even find someone else to love, someone who will love you. The last thing I want is you to bury yourself along with me. You have your life to live too. Your own fate ….. Which does not include throwing yourself into my grave after me …." She told him bluntly . "My death, your death …. is inevitable and there is _**nothing**_ that you can do to stop it …. But hell, there's nothing to say that you won't go _**before**_ me …." She forced a smile then and when he made to speak once more, she stilled him with a finger to his lips.

"Shush, love …. Think it through. You don't have to give me an answer now. I want you to be sure. _**Really**_ sure …. And then, when you have given me your promises …. We will never speak of it again."

He knew that she was right ….

_**So damned smart …. **__**So damned beautiful …. **__**So damned brave …. **__**And so damned wise ….**_

Whatever he said now would be an emotional reaction to her words ….

Not that what he told her would not be the truth ….

He did love her ….

And yes …. He would do his best to commit himself to the promises she wanted from him ….

But he knew in his heart that they were promises that he should not make ….

Could not make ….

Until he had sat down and thought all of this through rationally ….

Without emotion ….

He owed her ... Himself ….That much ….

He wasn't afraid of commitment ….

_**Marriage ….**_

His heart constricted in his chest as he realised that that was what she had been talking about when she had said that when he was ready …. If he was ever ready …. The only thing she wanted from him besides his love …. Was his name ….

Marriage ….

_**Mrs Stringfellow Hawke ….**_

_**Mrs Alexandra Hawke ….**_

It had such a lovely ring to it ….

And suddenly, the look that he had seen on her face that morning, when he had placed the small jewellery box before her, made sense ….

Just for an instant, she had thought that he was giving her a ring …. Asking her to share his life with him …. Committing himself to her ….

No wonder she had looked so crestfallen ….

If only for a moment …. Covering it so well ….

She had thought that he was offering her marriage ….

_**And why not …**_

_**Was it such a crazy idea?**_

Why not commit himself so completely to this woman he loved more than his own life?

In all honesty, it wasn't something that he had given serious thought to before …. After all, they were only just starting out ….

He knew he loved her and wanted to be with her ….

She satisfied all his needs ….

Friendship …. Companionship …. Love ….

Intimacy ….

_**But marriage ….**_

Hell ….

With the kind of life he had been living these past months ….

To commit himself to a long term relationship had hardly seemed fair ….

What if he were killed ….

Whomever he had a relationship with might one day find themselves a target for his enemies ….

Look at what had happened to Gabrielle ….

And she had been in the business ….

She had known the risks ….

How could he involve an innocent civilian?

This blind obsession ….

This mission he was on to find St John was his and his alone ….

But whoever shared his life could get dragged into the middle of all kinds of dirty tricks ….

Before Alex came into his life, the idea of marriage had not even troubled him ….

It was out of the question ….

He had hardened his heart to any kind of hope that one day he might have a wife …. Children ….

_**Children ….**_

Oh God ….

What if they had a child ….

More than one ….

How would he cope with taking care of children ….

Their children ….

If ….

If Alex died ….

Left him to raise their children alone ….

And how fair would it be to any child, bringing it into the world, not knowing if its mother would be around to see it grow up …. Knowing that his or her Mamma might not be around when he or she most needed her ….

And yet ….

If it happened ….

He knew that he would find a way to cope ….

He loved children, always had …. had an affinity with them that even he did not really understand ….

And how could he not love a child that had come from his and Alex's love for each other ….

Their child ….

Children ….

_**Wow!**_

What the hell was he thinking?

What the hell was _**she**_ thinking!

Hawke slammed the brakes on his racing thoughts, paused and took in a deep, shuddering breath.

Wait a minute ….

He was going way too fast ….

After all ….

If he stopped and thought about it ….

Really thought about it ….

All she was really asking was that they live each day as it came .… In as normal a fashion as they could ….

That they make plans ….

That they look forward to the future …. Together ….

He could do that? Couldn't he?

_**Couldn't he?**_

As Alex rested her cheek against his chest, she could hear his heart pounding, racing, and she could guess what was making it beat so rapidly.

She had given him a lot to think about ….

She could practically hear his brain working ….

_**Poor baby ….**_

All she could do was hope, and pray that he would understand what she had ultimately been asking of him ….

Just to love her, as he would love any other woman, and not try to cocoon her from life ….

To live each day in peace and contentment …. Happy with what they had …. Not fearing or dreading what might lie ahead ….

She had to trust that his heart would reach that conclusion …. And that his head would then follow where it lead ….

And if his heart couldn't take that leap of faith ….

She would rather cause him a little heartache now …. Than live with the knowledge that one day she would break his heart beyond repair and condemn him to a life of grief and guilt …. And loneliness.

If she walked away now …. Before things got too complicated …. At least she would know that she had left him with enough of his heart in tact that one day, he might be able to love again ….

Carefully, Alex disentangled herself from his embrace, and this time he did not try to stop her. She could see the conflict on his face, the anguish and the confusion as he wrestled with the task she had set him ….

All she could do was hope and pray that he was up to the task ….

"I'm tired, String …. All this fresh air …." She smiled bravely although fresh tears were already threatening. "I think I'll go on up to bed …. That's if you don't mind …."

"No …. Do you want me to sleep down here tonight?" He offered, suddenly unsure how to act around her.

"Well …. I kind of like having your chest as a pillow …." She smiled shyly then. "But …. I guess it's up to you …. I don't want to drive you out of your bed …. If anyone is going to be sleeping down here, it should be me …."

"Alex …."

"I understand you need time to think, String. You can have all the time you need. I want you to be sure …. Really sure …. So think it through …. Talk it over with your Dominic, if you feel able to …. I can wait …. But please, don't shut me out …." Her voice cracked then and fresh tears tumbled down through her lashes and onto her cheeks. "If tonight is all that we might have …. I want to be with you …."

"I want to be with you too …." He confessed raggedly, reaching out to pull her back into the comforting circle of his embrace, only to put her away from him again and clamp his lips firmly down on to hers.

He knew that he had to show her right away, that nothing had changed ….

That he wasn't seeing her in a different light ….

As a young woman, living under the threat of death ….

But that she was as beautiful and desirable to him now as she had been last night …. This afternoon ….

That nothing had changed ….

That his need for her had not diminished ….

Despite the fact that his mind was in utter turmoil ….

"I'll be up in a little while …." He assured her with a confident smile when they parted at last. "I have to see to the fire …. Tet ... But I will be up shortly, so don't take up all the bed …."

She nodded in understand and reluctantly drew away from him, her fingers loathed to break contact with his hand as she moved slowly toward the stairs.

After she had disappeared at the top of the stairs, Stringfellow Hawke went to the bar and poured himself a liberal amount of brandy in a balloon glass and then returning to the couch, sat, rolling the glass between his palms, warming the deep amber liquid before finally taking a sip.

As the alcohol scorched its way down his throat, he closed his eyes and squeezed out the tears that had been gathering ….

Silently allowing them to wash down his rugged cheeks ….

Unable to stop himself from silently asking of the heavens:

"_**Why ….**_ Why the hell do you keep doing this to me …. And why _**this**_ woman …. _**Why her**_ …. She's barely a child …. Hardly begun to live …. And hasn't she been through enough already, damn you …. _**Damn you ….**_ _**Damn me**_ _**….**_ _**If you must …. **_But leave her out of it …. _**Why ….**_ Why do you keep taking away the women that I love …."

_**Knightsbridge – Headquarters of The Firm.**_

_**Saturday 19**__**th**__** May, 1984.**_

_**Michael Coldsmith Brigg's III's Office – 10.45pm.**_

Marella watched as Archangel scanned through the latest reports and waited for him to comment, as she knew that he surely would.

Something was going on ….

She could smell it ….

Taste it ….

Why would a lowly Russian General who had been consigned to Siberia for the last six months suddenly turn up in the West ….

With a cover story and papers to back it up, that could only have been obtained through official channels.

A quick witted official at Passport control had smelled a rat ….

Able to tell the difference between a German accent and a Russian accent because although he was of German ancestry, he had been raised in a predominantly Russian neighbourhood in Berlin.

_**They got lucky.**_

He had immediately made certain that close circuit television at the airport had captured a likeness of the Russian and had made sure it found its way to the people who needed to know, along with the name on his passport.

Klaus Bauer.

A few discreet telephone calls around town had provided his current location and the fact that he had met up with another two men, colleagues from the same phoney movie company he claimed to be a Director of and who had entered the country via Miami and Boston respectively and then made their way by internal flights to Los Angeles.

The fact that they did not seem to be concerned about leaving a trail bothered Marella.

She couldn't help feeling that whilst they were watching Sevchenko and his colleagues, someone else might be trying to sneak in the through backdoor ….

But, as Archangel was fond of saying.

She was _**suspicious**_ by nature. And _**distrustful **_by training.

Three high ranking Russian military men had arrived on American soil ….

And the Firm hadn't the slightest idea that they were coming, or what they were here for ….

But she could hazard a guess.

Archangel was massaging his ear lobe with his fingers as he read the report and when he had finished he set it aside with a deep sigh.

"I don't like it …."

"Me neither." She agreed.

"What do we know about Sevchenko anyway?"

"No much …. He's been in Siberia for about six months, before that he was in Afghanistan …."

"Oh lucky boy …. He must have really ticked someone off. Two of the best spots in the world to serve in the Russian military …." Archangel quipped.

"His record is spotless …. Although it does appear that he isn't the most ambitious man in the Russian Army." She continued, ignoring his comments. "Unmarried, no children, career man. Served willingly and ably, although never attracting attention to himself. He's risen through the ranks slowly and it looks like he's reached a plateau in his career. Could be he's tired of the climate and just fancies a move to California …." She added with a rueful smile.

"Set up surveillance …." Archangel made his decision quickly and with a sigh.

"Already on to it, Sir …. How do you want to play it?"

"Covertly. I want them to keep their distance, and definitely no interaction. Let Bauer and his friends keep thinking that they are here unobserved. Twenty four hour surveillance for a few days might reveal their true intention."

"What about Hawke?"

"What about him? We don't know that they are here specifically for Airwolf …. Although, I do have to concur, that that _**could **_be their target."

"Shouldn't we at least warn him?"

"Not until we have something concrete to tell him. Besides, he's off on some romantic interlude, didn't you tell me …." He reminded her with a smug look.

"Hawke can handle himself, and, if the Russians do make a beeline for Santini Air …. They'll probably claim that they need stunt pilots …. Indeed, that's probably their cover story for being here …. And who are we to question the validity of that? We can't haul them in on suspicion of wanting to steal something that officially, we _**never developed **_….and we _**don't have**_ any more …. And under those circumstances, Hawke is a private citizen …. It would be up to him to report any theft …. And I would like to see him explain _**that**_ away …." He grinned.

"I'll talk to Peck right away …. He and his team are awaiting orders. They can be set up and in place before midnight." She advised him.

"Midnight it is then …. And Marella …. Tell them I want updates every four hours."

"Right Sir …. Anything else?"

"No …. I guess that's about it for now …." She made to say something else and he raised an eyebrow in query.

It wasn't like her to question his orders. However, she seemed to think better of whatever it was she had been about to say and simply turned on her heel and headed out of his office.

In her own small office just down the hallway, Marella made short work of dealing with setting up the surveillance on the Russians, speaking with the leader of one of their crack surveillance teams, Gerald Peck, head of Alpha team, making arrangements with him to begin the covert surveillance of the Russian trio from midnight that night.

After she had concluded her call with Peck, Marella made a few more discreet phone calls and then sat back from her desk and chewed thoughtfully on a neatly manicured fingernail for a moment.

What she had just learned would have been just as easy for Archangel to discover too, if he had asked …..

And she could not understand why he had not chosen to go down that route.

Was he so hung up on the possible threat to Airwolf that he simply hadn't seen an alternative to simply surveilling the Russians here in the States ….

There was also intel to be gathered on the ground in the Soviet Union ….

They already had two agents, deep under cover, in the right region of the Soviet Union, who could easily be pulled off their current missions to infiltrate the base in Siberia, where Sevchenko had been stationed ….

To try to discover what was going on there that had prompted his trip to the West ….

It couldn't hurt to have someone on the inside …. poking around ….

Discreetly ….

It could be useful to know what went on at the base ….

What if the Russians were working on their own version of Airwolf there? An insider could dig up vital information on just how far they had got ….

Maybe even sabotage their prototype …. If not completely destroy their version of the Mach 1 super chopper …. At least do enough damage to set them back several years in their development of it ….

Had they encountered difficulties with their prototype helicopter and had sent Sevchenko and his team here to try to determine how the American team had overcome similar problems?

Maybe they weren't interested in trying to steal the hardware ….

But just wanted to learn about her systems and armaments so that they could improve on them ….

According to her sources, the base had just put in a request for a replacement medic, to cover whilst their current doctor went on leave due to nervous stress. It would be a simple matter of intercepting orders and replacing the Soviet's chosen replacement with one of their agents.

The other could then set up a base close by and act as back up should there become a need to beat a hasty retreat.

Why hadn't Michael chosen to go this route?

Of course, she had the authority to give the go ahead to pull both agents off their current missions, both of which had stalled after promising starts …. And despatch them to Siberia.

Whatever they learned would prove to be valuable ….

As it would fill a gap in their present intelligence about that particular base …. Its personnel ….

Just because Archangel hadn't given her instructions to do something like this, it didn't follow that he would disapprove. Usually he was impressed and pleased with her taking the initiative.

He already had so much on his mind, he couldn't think of everything ….

And that was where she came in.

She wasn't just a glorified secretary, no matter what people around here thought ….

Actually, that was a pretty good cover for what she actually did.

She had clout.

She had the authority to conduct her own enquiries and handle her own group of agents working on numerous special projects currently under development.

And she was used to justifying her actions to Archangel after the fact ….

She was his assistant, but that didn't mean that she didn't have her own set of responsibilities.

He would understand her reasoning ….

When she explained it to him.

He would support her decision ….

Perhaps even applaud it ….

After all, what was she really doing …. Except covering every angle ….

After several minutes of further deep contemplation, Marella reached out for the telephone and placed a call which would set the change in orders in action, asking the switchboard operator to connect her with the Head of Foreign Intelligence at home on his secure line.

A courtesy call informing him of her plans to shuffle a couple of his agents around in the field and to request that the appropriate operative in Moscow find out who the Russians intended to send to Siberia, and to make the admin switch that would send Dr Maggie Brown, currently posing as Dr Yana Petrova, code name Gypsy, to the base and place Steven McGee, currently posing as factory worker Mischa Ivanov, code name Minstrel, close by as back up.

Neither had worked with the other before, so there would be no way of connecting them if either's cover was broken ….

And, both were experienced and capable agents ….

And both could be in place within twenty four hours ….

The nature of their mission ….

_**Watch ….**_

_**And wait ….**_

Gather as much Intel as they could and report back.

Their next step would very much depend on what they discovered.

When she had finished the call and hung up the telephone, Marella sat back from her desk, her fingers playing absently with a strand of her dark, curly hair.

She knew that she had made the right decision.

_**What did they have to lose?**_

If Gypsy could quickly learn what was going on at the base, it would give them a heads up ….

A clue as to what Sevchenko and the others wanted here in the States ….

And that could help to prevent Sevchenko succeeding with his mission.

_To be continued …_


End file.
